like black cherries and gorgeous nightmares
by seireeii
Summary: I'll give you hope. — Hibari, Kyouko.
1. of first meetings and exchanges of blows

**notes**: This is my newer, and longer crossover story that I really want to write, and finish. I love these two characters, and I actually have a solid plot for this, for like, the first time. I own _nothing_ (characters, animes, layout, etc.).

* * *

**like black cherries and gorgeous nightmares**

_it's simple and easy. _

_close your eyes, and count my breaths,_

_just like you and i were meant to be._

—

**one.**

—

Watching her move was like watching the cardinals in the sky.

The way her long scarlet hair swirled around her as she twisted her body around on one delicate foot, as elegant as a dancer clad in swirling laces and skirts fringed in rose-colored feathers of silk, and stays broken loose against the wind. Her body was perfectly balanced on her one foot, her eyes fallen shut, her lips gently parted in a soft grin. The hem of her pink blouse rippled against her pale cherry-hued skin, her red-black plaid pleated skirt dancing through the air around the paleness of her bare legs.

He'd never seen _anything_ like her before.

He wasn't the type to be so _allured_ by anything (let alone a female), but there was something about her that clouded his mind with vivid scarlets (like her hair, he noticed) and flooded his nose with the scent of cherries and warm summer air (like the fragrance that blew from the ends of her ponytail as she swung her body around in another circle). He'd never experienced anything quite like her in all his years of walking the Earth.

She hopped forward, then swirled left, holding her arms at her sides gracefully, her lips curved upward into a soft smile, before taking her stance. "Perfect."

It was just the two of them – he had bypassed the chocolate-stained closed sign pasted to the window with what looked like whipped cream (he later found the source – a plate of cherry shortcake and a cherry-vanilla parfait with two sticks of pocky sitting proudly on the top) and had ventured into the arcade on a whim – and she turned around, noticing his presence.

"Did'ya come to watch me?" she asked, taking a few steps toward the edge of the game board. He shook his head, pocketing his hands. She smiled, and jumped down onto the glow-in-the-dark carpet. She picked up her plate containing the cake, and grabbed the pastry in its entirety, holding it up to her lips and biting into it with bright eyes. "I understand. So, in that case, what'd ya come here for?"

If he wanted to be honest, he wasn't sure. But she didn't need to know that, not with the way she was eating her cake. He was surprised it stayed completely whole despite the death grip her fingers had on it. But the look in her eyes as she was eating her shortcake brought him back to attention, and he closed his eyes.

"I don't have a reason," he answered. "I just came simply because I wanted to."

"That _is_ a reason," she replied between mouthfuls. "A vague, but acceptable reason. I go into places just because I want to all the time. It's like a hobby of mine."

She was a strange one. "An herbivorous one."

"_Herbivorous_?" she echoed, cocking her head. Her lips were painted bright white with the whip cream icing on the cake she was _devouring_. "What the hell do you mean by that? This ain't Ecology class, buddy."

And she had a foul mouth on her too. "Life isn't much different than an Ecology class. We're bound by the same rules as the ecosystems around us."

"_Really_? And what rules are those?" Her lip curled up against the corner of her cake.

"Survival of the fittest." Her amber eyes narrowed. "The weak have to make way for the strong. It's natural for those not suited for survival to decompose and return to the environment in order to nurture those that are. You're familiar with it, aren't you?"

"It's the food chain," she answered, leaning up against the seat of a driving game. "I have a passing grade in Ecology. And, I'm beasting Culinary."

Interesting combination. "Culinary is useless."

"It's not if you're someone who likes to eat," she drawled, popping the last piece of her cake into her mouth before turning to her parfait. "'Sides, it's gettin' kinda boring around here anyway. Gotta shake things up, you know what I'm sayin'?"

He didn't understand her.

She turned around, her scarlet bangs parting from the center of her forehead. "So, who are you?"

"It doesn't concern you," he answered, turning away from her. She leaned forward as if to get a closer look at him, her smirk taunting. He could smell the cherries and sugar from her cake on her lips. She was so close – a stab of irritation coursed through him. "Get away from me."

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice dripping with honey. "Got a personal bubble space or somethin'?"

He glowered.

"_Hah_, I got it," she murmured, drawing out her syllables teasingly, her auburn eyes bright. He knew she didn't have any intention of hurting him (and even if she did, he was fully capable of dealing with the sly little wretch), but she was _pissing_ him off. She was much, _much_ too close, and his killing intent was rising faster than he could dispel it. But that seemed to be just what she wanted. "Man, you're a downer. I was just screwin' with you."

Little wench.

She pulled back, and scooped out a spoonful of whip cream, cherry, and vanilla ice cream, before shoving it into her mouth and _snorting_. "Well? Got a name? Or should I call you something that you'd consider _condescending_?"

"I told you, it doesn't concern you," he muttered, beginning to lose his patience. He wasn't certain why he was still where he was. That boot she had on his toes might have something to do with it. "Remove your foot from mine. I will not ask again."

The pressure on his toes increased, and the corner of her lips twisted upward. "And if I refuse?"

"I'll bite you to death."

She smiled, and tilted her head. "_So_ _forward_."

She had to be the biggest idiot he'd ever seen.

"I'll _bite_ you to _death_, herbivore," he snarled, reaching for his tonfas. She twisted her body, smirking as he narrowed his eyes a fraction at the pain in his foot. Her back pressed into his chest, and her right hand gripped onto one of his tonfas, stopping him. "What are you hoping to accomplish, positioning yourself like this?"

Her spoon touched his right cheek. "You need to loosen up a little."

"Get your spoon off my face."

"Hey," she said, her amber eyes glowing, "did you know that there's parfait on your cheek?"

"You're the one who put it there," he glowered. He didn't understand what was happening with him. Normally, he would've already whipped his tonfas into her face, and left the dusty, noisy arcade with her bleeding on the floor. It wasn't their position that was stopping him. He wasn't certain, and it _pissed_ him off.

Before he could say anything, she whispered, "I'll get it for you."

Then her _tongue_ was on his _cheek_.

"Just _what_ are you doing?" he demanded, as her face drew back. She blinked, and pursed her lips as she raised his right arm to the side of his face, and wiped at the cheek her tongue had _just_ touched, her parfait in the other.

"It was the quickest way to get rid of the whip cream and shit off your face," she retorted. "What? Too _forward_ for _you_?"

"Hn?" he snorted.

"Don't look at me like that," she hissed, flicking him in the forehead, "_you're_ the one who started it."

How had he _started_ it?

"I haven't started anything," he shot back, pulling his left tonfa out and slapping it across the back of her head.

Her ponytail billowed from the onyx ribbon holding it up, stray tresses falling from the neat up-do. Her free hand reached to the back of her head, and he noted the irritated tremor of her shoulders, the quivering of her back, and the shadowed _death_ glare. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her ebony ribbon, and pulled, freeing her long crimson hair into the air.

"Do you _not_ understand how _fucking hard_ it is to get your hair up with a _ribbon_?" He didn't care. He honestly didn't care at all for what she was screaming about. This only proved the fact that she was a small animal, and therefore incapable of interesting him. "Hey! Are you _listening_ to me?"

"No."

The corner of her lips twitched, and her eyes blazed. "God damn, I _really_ want to kick your ass."

"Is that so?" he asked, pushing her away from him with his tonfa. As he'd expected, she spun around to face him elegantly, her long scarlet hair swaying out behind her. Her parfait teetered within the center of her palm, and in her other hand, her hairpin and onyx ribbon lay still. She wasn't armed. He smirked. "Come."

She locked her legs, planting her feet. "_You_ first."

She certainly _was_ a strange one.

Not willing to disappoint her (and the fact that his body was _screaming_ for motion), he smirked, and jumped forward, whipping his tonfas forward without hesitation. She smirked back, and ducked, before sliding between his legs on her ass as he jerked up short of the back of the driving game seat in front of him. He swung around, continuing with his assault, narrowing his eyes at the fluidness of her movements as she dodged. She was merely toying with him – weaving in between his attacks like they were nothing.

Her right arm lifted to block his left tonfa, and she tossed up her parfait into the air to block his right one, his tonfa denting the side of the plastic cup between them and spraying cream into the air. He widened his eyes as she tilted onto her right foot, and lashed out with her left boot, kicking him in the stomach. He slid backwards, but aside from the force she'd exerted to push him back, he hadn't felt any pain from her attack. She really _was_ playing with him.

And _that_ pissed him off as well.

But at the same time, he wasn't being serious either.

She jabbed her elbow into his incoming tonfa strike, before waving the butt of her hand downward to lower it. He watched her left hand fly forward as if released from a sling-shot, so quick and seamless that it barely grazed his cheek. Her feet pitter-pattered across the carpet, as she wove through the space between them, fighting through his defenses once more, before he understood.

She was merely dancing.

As was he.

She moved well – evaded his tonfas with ease, all the while keeping her burgundy irises firmly fixed upon their movements. She was talented, and her own movements were seamless, flowing from one to another. She twisted around underneath his tonfa, and brought her left hand back up, smirking as her long scarlet hair swirled through the air around her, blowing across her irises. He let his head fall back as her fist grazed his nose, and promptly aimed his other weapon at her face.

She smirked; hopped back, slipping slightly on the white whipped cream on the floor, and lifted her head back to meet his. He watched her eyes flash back and forth, watching the lengths of his tonfas lash and whip at the sides of her face, and evaded them all with hardly any effort. He narrowed his eyes, and drew back slightly, aiming both tonfas at the sides of her face at the same time out of frustration.

Her movements weren't natural. They just _weren't_. Even if she were extremely nimble and flexible, she didn't seem to be the type to be _this_ skilled at fighting. Verbally, perhaps. But _physically_?

It was _impossible_.

He registered her hands, her fingertips on his tonfas, and pushed against them. But she merely arced upwards, dodging his attack and hovering in midair above his head for a moment before elegantly dropping toward the carpet just behind him. He turned as she squealed, and held her hands at the front of her skirt as she fell, causing him to briefly lift his eyebrow. He'd already seen her underwear – pink, frilly, laces – when she'd slid underneath him. He hadn't meant to. But he had to admit, the color flattered her fair pink-white skin tone.

Then, he saw what had scared her.

"Kyouko, my shift's over, we can head to Mami's and have some tea, and—" Her friend stopped in her tracks, jerking to a stop at the doorway. He noted her short, diagonal tomboyish hair-style, bright azure-colored eyes, and a sunny smile, before gazing down at her outfit. It certainly was more tomboyish than the blouse and lace-edged skirt the red-haired girl Kyouko was wearing. The girl blushed, and bowed. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I'm Miki Sayaka, it's nice to meet you."

"Hn." The red-haired girl glanced back at him, and snarled.

"_Filthy pervert_," she hissed, laying her chin on her shoulder.

Her auburn eyes brooded from the sleeve of her frilled blouse, and for a moment, he was certain she was about to come after him again. But the presence of her friend, Miki Sayaka, seemed to have a positive effect on her. Positive meaning that she didn't challenge him again. And that disappointed him.

Her long scarlet hair tickled his arms as she swept it back up into a ponytail, securely holding the unruly crimson tresses with one hand, her hairpin and black ribbon in the other. As if by magic, she skillfully tied her hair back up into the neat style she'd tamed it with before he'd destroyed it, and tightened the ribbon into a bow at the center of her waterfall of cherry-red. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she pulled out a pair of bobby pins and slid them into her bangs, parting them back from her face with close precision.

"Alright, Sayaka, I'll come along with you this time," she snorted, putting her hands on her hips. "But only if Mami's making one of those cakes again. I had a piece of shortcake earlier, and some parfait too before this _idiot_ attacked me."

So he was an _idiot_, was he? "Your reference to _idiot_ wasn't referring to me, was it?"

"Oh, it _was_," she snapped, gesturing with her right hand to the floor. "You attacked me, so I dropped my parfait. Therefore, you owe me a _shit-load_ of sweets."

_He'd_ attacked _her_? That wasn't how _he_ remembered it. And she hadn't _dropped_ it. She'd _thrown_ it at him to deflect his tonfa.

He was about ready to smack her upside her head with his tonfa. "Herbivore—"

"Don't _herbivore_ me!" she exclaimed, taking a step closer. "You owe me another _parfait_, and another piece of _cake_, _understand_ me?"

"K—_Kyouko_," Sayaka stuttered, her eyebrows twitching. Kyouko jabbed a fingertip into his chest, her face close.

"_Tomorrow_," she said. He blinked. "Same time, same place. Cherry shortcake's fine, but make sure that there's _extra_ icing on the top. And as for the parfait, I like to have my pocky sticks standing up at the top. Got it?"

He would've whipped his tonfas into her face _then_ and _there_ for her _orders_ had it not been for the hand on the left side of his face, and the cherry-colored lips at his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin as her lips moved.

"By the way, my name ain't _herbivore_," she drawled. He could feel her heart beating through her shirt against his arm, and instinctively stiffened. She was so, so close. And he wasn't moving to push her away. He didn't understand it. She smiled, and slid something into his right hand, replacing his tonfa without his knowledge. "It's _Sakura Kyouko_. Nice to meet you."

She pulled away, holding his tonfa in one hand. He raised the object she'd placed into his hand up to his face, and squinted, analyzing it with a practiced scrutiny. He could feel shapes inside its smooth wrapper, and narrowed his eyes. Lifting his eyes back to hers, he caught sight of the crooked grin on her face, and glowered.

"Return my tonfa," he ordered. Kyouko twirled it daintily in her right hand, spinning it effortlessly on her palm, as if to taunt him.

"_This_?" she asked, smirking into her reflection on the surface of the metal rod, "I'm gonna hang onto it for a little while."

"No."

She smirked. "What? Can't live without your little toy?"

"It's not a _toy_," he muttered, closing his eyes. Not only was she irritating him with the tone of her voice, but she sounded like she was challenging him. And he never backed down from a challenge. "I expect you to return it to me tomorrow."

Her eyes sparkled. "I _promise_."

There was something triumphant in her gaze that irked him. He wasn't certain what she was celebrating internally, and he glanced at her friend to find a clue as to what that _something_ was, but Sayaka was too busy staring _wide-eyed_ at the red-head to offer any sort of hint.

Useless _herbivore_.

Snorting irritably, he brushed past the red-haired girl, and closed his eyes, smoothly pushing the door open and left the arcade without a backwards glance.

Back in the store, Kyouko curled her lips up, and glanced back at Sayaka, waving the raven-haired boy's tonfa through the air. "And _that_, my dear friend, is how you ask out a boy."

Pause.

Kyouko's lips parted back from her teeth, revealing her fangs in a sly smile.

"The _right_ way."

—

**shift.**

—

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**notes**: This is possibly the most edited piece of writing on my profile. Hopefully I keep this up with the second chapter. Reviews?

**notes2**: This may have been inspired by _Gorgeous Nightmare_ by: Escape the Fate. I absolutely _love_ that song. I recommend you listen to it. It's _awesome_.


	2. of truces and passing memories

—

**two. **

—

It was _eight at night_, and _none_ of them had taken a shower, or eaten a _single_ bite of Mami's cake.

Kyouko was beginning to grow _concerned_ – a feat that only the _closest_ of her friends (meaning, Sayaka and Mami) could accomplish – and not just for the sake of herself. She already knew her current status in terms of where she stood in her circle of friends, as well as how desperately hungry her stomach was, but she couldn't help but feel _concerned_ for the others.

And if one translated those unspoken thoughts into _Sakura Kyouko_-lingo, she was about to _freak the freak out_.

Literally.

And it was _only_ because of the fact that Miki Sayaka opened her mouth that Kyouko didn't burst at the seams.

"He was _so_ cute," Sayaka gushed, holding her hands under her chin and squealing. "You should've _seen_ him! He had black hair, smoldering blue eyes, and the _hottest_ twist of a smirk. And his _voice_! Oh my god, don't get me _started_ on his _voice_."

Madoka, seated beside Homura on the carpet opposite Kyouko and Sayaka, laughed to herself before reaching for her tea cup. "Do you know his name?"

"Uh, no," Sayaka said, dropping her head in disappointment. At Madoka's sympatheic glance, Sayaka raised her face again, and beamed. "But I can assure you that he _does_ exist! He was flirting with Kyouko in the arcade!"

"Flirting with _Kyouko_?" Homura asked, sneaking a glance in Kyouko's direction.

The red-haired girl shoved her piece of cake into her mouth, and said nothing.

She couldn't say anything – Homura always managed to beat her in battles involving words and sheer intellect. To this day, Kyouko had never won a game of Scrabble with the girl. It was absolutely pitiful. But to Kyouko's defense, she'd never had proper schooling, a characteristic that Akemi Homura had often sought to change about the cherry-haired teenager. And to Homura's defense, Kyouko knew that the overwhelming amount of knowledge the raven-haired girl held inside her head had to give her headaches every once in a while.

But Kyouko wasn't entirely _in love_ with the idea of having Homura shove her superiority in _that_ department down her throat, let alone _any_ department.

Just the fact that Kyouko didn't know how to spell _environment_ was bad enough, and not only that, but it was also pathetic.

Madoka glanced over at the full-mouthed Magical Girl, and smiled. "Was he really flirting with you?"

Kyouko blanched, and swung her blushing face away. "Why does it matter to you guys?!"

"_Because_," Sayaka drawled, stirring her sugar around in her tea cup with dainty, light fingers, "we _never _come home with boy stories. And now that you've got one, what do you _think_ we're gonna do?"

"This isn't a _boy story_," Kyouko snorted. "We just met in the arcade, and talked. Nothing else to it."

Sayaka and Madoka exchanged glances.

"Uh-_huh_." Sayaka raised a knowing eyebrow. "Like I'm gonna believe _that_."

"You _should_," Kyouko retorted, shoving the cake back into her mouth and chomping at the corner. "Least if you know what's good for you. Then again, you don't even know _right_ from _left_."

"You promised never to bring that up again," Sayaka muttered. Kyouko, smelling weakness, smirked at her blue-haired best friend, and bit into her cake innocently.

"Bring _what_ up?" she asked, her tone dripping with honey. "_I_ didn't bring _anything_ up. But _you_ did, so now it's fair game."

Sayaka flushed bright red in response to Kyouko's teasing tone, and playfully shoved the red-haired girl's shoulder. "Come on, Kyouko. You said that you'd keep it a secret!"

"Who the _hell_ do you think I am?" Kyouko asked. Sayaka and Madoka's heads slid closer to each other, and Homura's purple eyes lit upon Kyouko's ruddy scarlet ones. At their silence, Kyouko shoved her cake back into her mouth and chomped down, falling quiet as well. "_Screw_ that."

Mami's blonde spirals bounced against her shoulders as she entered the room, holding plates filled with sweets and Kyouko's _favorite_ shortcake – cherry filling, strawberry icing spliced with melted chocolate – capped by _frothy_ cups of vanilla milkshakes. Kyouko licked her lips; she could already taste the whipped cream, creamy vanilla sweetness and the small, delicate cherry on her tongue. She shoved the remainder of her cake down in two gulps, before reaching for her next one eagerly.

Much to Kyouko's irritation and annoyance, the blonde Magical Girl pulled the plate from Kyouko's waiting hands, and gave her a glower. "Eat it with a _fork_ and _spoon_ this time, Sakura-san."

"What're you talking about?" Kyouko asked, snorting at the spoon and fork Mami handed her in the next moment. "Cake's finger-food."

"It's _supposed_ to be eaten with a fork and a spoon," Homura put in, lowering her tone. Kyouko's nonexistent hackles began to rise as her magical power prickled across her skin. "Only the mentally hindered eat cake in such an atrocious way. Are you one of them, Sakura Kyouko?"

"Shut the _hell_ up," Kyouko growled, shoving her cake into her mouth. Homura's violet eyes fell upon the red-haired girl's fangs – watched the animalistic way Kyouko's fangs sank into her piece of cake, without reserve. "Go find your stupid void and stay there."

Madoka, Sayaka, and Mami widened their eyes. Homura just sat there, calm and cool, as if Kyouko hadn't said a single word. But the red-haired girl knew that deep inside, the violet Magical Girl was hurt deeply.

And Kyouko regretted _every_ word underneath the hurt _she_ was feeling.

"Sakura-san," Mami whispered, holding a hand to her mouth. "You know that Akemi-san's—"

"You think I care?" Kyouko snorted, sweeping her left hand across the air above the tabletop, materializing her black-red Impulse Spear within a mere moment. The tip poked into the edge of Homura's nose. "She's done nothing but _bitch_ at me about all of my _shortcomings_. And then she's got the balls to pick at my lack of education? Serves her right."

Sayaka put a hand on Kyouko's shoulder soothingly. "You _know_ Homura isn't trying to be mean about it. I mean, you _are_ going to school after all."

"Say that to her superiority complex," Kyouko retorted, taking another bite of her cake. With a sigh, she released her Impulse Spear, and tightened her grip on her Soul Gem. "But, I guess I _was_ out of line."

"Perhaps," Homura responded, sipping from her tea. Kyouko lifted her auburn eyes to Homura's steady purple ones, and blinked. Then, Homura managed a slight, shy smile. "But it takes two to start a fight. Had I not of pushed you so far, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

_That_ was an _interesting_ way to put it.

Kyouko blushed slightly, and shifted backwards, laughing once. "_Sheesh_, you're _seriously_ gonna cramp my style."

"Kyouko-chan," Madoka sighed, smiling. Kyouko's amber eyes scanned the circumference of her plate, and picked up a cookie. Turning back to Homura, she held the cookie out to her, and tilted her head coyly.

"Truce?" Kyouko asked, looking into Homura's calm, calculating eyes. After a moment, Homura took the cookie, and held Kyouko's hand in a gentle, solid hand-shake.

"I suppose," she answered, before pulling back again. Kyouko smiled, and leaned back against the sofa, bringing the headless cake back to her lips. Just as her fangs grazed the icing: "So. What are you going to do about this boy you met?"

"_Huh_?" Kyouko's teeth split the remainder of the cake in half. "What do you mean?"

"Magical Girls cannot have relationships with humans," Mami answered. "You know that."

"Relationships? C'mon, are you kidding me?" Madoka, Sayaka, Mami, and Homura just stared at her. "Like I'm gonna fall for _that_ idiot."

Although Kyouko couldn't deny that the idiot _had_ been a _cute_ one – she had particularly enjoyed the feeling of his body against hers, had rather enjoyed the shiver of his cheek under her tongue when she'd licked the whipped cream from it, and thrill of fighting him hadn't been disappointing either – but she wasn't stupid enough to let her emotions control her.

Though she _did_ have a temper, and track record to prove it.

Coming back to herself, Kyouko sighed, and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh relax, nothing bad's gonna happen. If anything, I won't see him again after tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow_?" Madoka asked, cocking her head. Sayaka nodded, a smile brightening her face.

"Kyouko's got a _date_," Sayaka answered. Kyouko's left hand connected with her face a moment later.

"It sounds so _stupid_ and _boring_ when you put it like that," she muttered. Mami cleared her throat politely.

"_Sakura-san_," Mami started, her tone level, but stern, "I will only say this once: Magical Girls are _not_ allowed to have relationships with humans."

The red-haired girl nodded.

"However, I also believe in the saying, _honor your engagements_, so, I expect you to follow through with your plans," Mami continued. Kyouko nodded again – it was only because Mami was the one responsible for the creation of the cake that called to Kyouko from its place on the counter that the crimson Magical Girl didn't fall asleep. "As long as this is only going to happen _once_, I don't see any problem with it."

Kyouko yawned into her left palm. "Now that the lecture's over, I'mma hit the showers."

"I think the proper term is _hay_," Homura pointed out, earning a nod from the strawberry-haired girl beside her.

"_Hay_ is for _horses_," Kyouko replied, starting toward the kitchen.

Kyouko swallowed her tea in at least two gulps, before disposing of the porcelain cup and plate carefully in the sink. Reaching for the rest of the cake on the counter, she grabbed one of the thicker slices, and yawned again, heading down the hallway to the right of the room.

"Later, kiddos," Kyouko called, waving a hand behind her. Inside, the red-haired girl sighed, shoving the rest of the cake into her mouth as she went.

As long as this _something_ didn't last longer than tomorrow, she was in the clear. And if it did, well, Kyouko knew she'd be screwed.

_Only_ if Mami managed to find out.

Not just Mami, but if everyone else found out she'd be in trouble as well. She wouldn't put it past Homura to allude to something of that nature in front of the blonde older-sister figure of the house, seeing as the violet-eyed girl had license to make Kyouko's life a living hell, at least with this recent explosion. And now that Kyouko thought about it, she was _sure_ that Homura was planning something. Whether it was something small, or something bigger, Kyouko wasn't entirely sure.

But then again, Homura wasn't the revenge type in the first place.

Kyouko hadn't threatened Madoka in any way, shape, or form, so Homura wouldn't have any reason to go all out if she was plotting something for the red-haired girl. But as the crimson Magical Girl peeled her blouse, skirt, bra, and panties from her body, the harder it became to shake the idea that Homura was planning something. Kyouko reached for the curtain and spun the nozzle on the shower, jacking up the temperature so high that it scalded her hand when she tested it, before flinging herself into the shower as she pulled her black ribbon and hair pin from her long scarlet tresses.

Tossing her bobby pins onto the pile of dirty clothes on the floor moments later, Kyouko widened her eyes when she caught sight of Akemi Homura leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, long hair free and loose. Kyouko pulled the curtain around her, and leaned out of the shower, ignoring the shampoo that fell to the tiles as she gripped the wet material.

"Do you _mind_?" Kyouko demanded, blushing in embarrassment. "Kinda naked here."

"I'll only be a moment," Homura assured her, pushing off from the wall, and coming closer. "Feel free to carry on with your shower. You can hear me from here, can't you?"

"Yep," Kyouko answered, shutting the curtain again. Refilling her hand with shampoo again, she lathered up her hair and scrubbed as hard as she could, anxious for what Homura was about to say.

"You dodged my question earlier, Sakura Kyouko," she pointed out, sitting down on the toilet seat. Kyouko's eyes flashed to Homura's through the thin screen of the curtain, but she held her tongue. "What if it lasts longer than tomorrow, what are you going to do? You saw what happened with Kyousuke – you know better than all of us how hurt and devastated Miki Sayaka was afterwards. Do you want to bear that pain yourself?"

Kyouko's nose crinkled. "What're you playing at?"

"I know you," she answered. "I know how you are. Even though you prefer to hide your emotions underneath smirks and laughter, you can't keep anything from me. As much as you might not like it, you're fairly easy to read. Straight-forward almost to a fault."

"I told Mami that it wouldn't last longer than tomorrow," Kyouko replied, scrubbing harder. "I know the rules. I just hate them."

"Do you know why Tomoe Mami made that rule in the first place?"

Kyouko glanced back at Homura. "Shoot."

"Rokudo Mukuro."

Kyouko flinched.

"_Hah_," Kyouko laughed bitterly, curving her lip upward in a smirk, "I haven't heard _that_ name in a while. Sounds as grim as always."

"She saw what happened to you, and decided to make a rule against having relationships," Homura continued, running her fingers through her long black-purple hair. "She made it to protect everyone. Sayaka's incident only solidified that belief – she doesn't want any of us to be hurt by something that devastating."

"I know that," Kyouko replied, rinsing her hair. "But I'm not gonna have any problems. He ain't my type anyway."

Homura smiled, and folded her hands over her crossed legs. "Perhaps. You don't know his name yet though, do you?"

"Nope," Kyouko chirped.

"Be sure to keep Rokudo Mukuro in mind," Homura said, standing up. "None of us want that to happen to you again. It took _more_ than just your wish magic."

Kyouko's chin dropped, and her eyes fell shut.

"That's all I have to say," Homura finished, starting for the door. Kyouko reached for the conditioner once the door closed, and sighed, leaning against the shower wall.

Somehow, going through with her date didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. But, Kyouko was a firm believer in the statement that a good night's sleep was the best cure for anything harmful or contagious.

She'd sleep on it.

—

**shift.**

—

**notes**: I hope you all enjoy this chapter too - it's supposed to set the groundwork for both sides of the plot (romance and drama). I hope it wasn't too boring? It goes without saying that I own _nothing_. As always, reviews would be _glorious_.


	3. of ups and downs and dance battles

—

**three. **

—

Despite how worried she'd been the night before, when the time for their _date_ arrived; Kyouko couldn't have been more _amused_.

Not only had _he_ forgotten the cake, and parfait that he owed her, it had slipped her mind to bring his tonfa along with her when she left the house shortly after she'd woken up (she'd slept in until twelve in the afternoon – she hadn't been able to sleep with Sayaka snoring in the room beside hers. She was lucky she didn't have school, and that her shift started at one in the afternoon).

And when he'd _demanded_ for her to return his tonfa, she'd smirked, and _dragged_ him up onto the game board with her by the collar.

To say the least, _that_ had put him in a mood.

And now, she was laughing and hopping from side to side as she clumsily tried to teach him how to play _Reinforcement_. But getting the teenager to move was a task in itself. She'd known that he was _stiff_ – she'd recognized it in the way he'd moved the day before during their fight, how he had relied mostly on his arms and tonfas rather than his feet and legs – but she'd never pegged him for a sit-on-the-sidelines type.

And she called herself an _excellent_ judge of character.

Yeah, right.

"You see those arrows?" she pointed out, lifting her index finger to the center of his screen, all the while flicking her amber eyes back to hers to keep watch for any unexpected moves. "The ones going _up_ and _down_?" – she pointed her index finger up and down to emphasize her point, in case he was a visual learner – "You've gotta hit 'em at the same time."

"Hit what?" he demanded, watching the red-haired girl's boots patter across the game board, tapping each arrow that crossed the _go line_. "This is a waste of time."

Kyouko snorted, and closed her eyes. "_Screw_ it. Just watch me."

"No."

"_Watch_," she ordered, fixing him with a brief, but _scalding_ glare. Reluctantly, the raven-haired boy turned to watch her screen, and occasionally glanced at the arrows her feet were _hitting_ on the game board she was standing on. There was nothing but music between them for the moment, and once the final bars approached, Kyouko elegantly spun on one foot, before taking her stance. "See? Simple as that."

"How pointless," he grumbled. She turned toward him, and slapped him on the shoulder, laughing as she did so.

"Player change!" she exclaimed, parting her fingers from his left shoulder blade. She smirked at the glower he gave her, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're up."

"_I told you_, I don't want to dance or waste my time," he responded, mimicking her movements and shutting his eyes. "Do you _not_ understand Japanese very well, herbivore?"

Kyouko narrowed her eyes: "How can I be an _herbivore_ if I eat _both_ meat and plants?"

She paused, expectant.

At his silence, she tapped his shoulder again. "I thought so." He turned his eyes toward her glared daggers, but being the carefree, and equally as stubborn teenager she was, she brushed them off as if they hadn't affected her at all, and in truth, they hadn't. She smirked, her pocky stick leaning precariously on the edge of her bottom lip: "I'll be right here case you mess up. It won't be easy, but I can cover up for you if you make a mistake. First, what song do you want?"

"Preferably none."

Kyouko's lips twitched. "Any genre then?"

"No."

"Fine. _I'll_ pick one that's easy for _me_, so that in case _you_ screw up, _I_ can cover _your_ ass," she muttered, flicking her fingers across the keypad. She didn't notice the probing gaze he gave her – she only noticed his silence, and the beaming mass of long red hair that slid from her back. Scrolling down the list, she tapped her fingers on the keypad lightly, thinking about each choice before moving to the next one. "_Oh my gosh_. They have them. Holy shit. _They have them_."

"What are you talking about?" She swung around after pushing the play button, and gave him a push to his spot. "Don't touch me."

"I'll dance this one with you," she said enthusiastically, hopping back into her place seconds later. "I haven't heard these guys in a _long ass_ time. Not since Sayaka and Madoka brought home that CD from school about a year ago. I effin' _love_ this band."

He merely glanced up at the screen, his gaze blank. "Hmmm."

"No, _seriously_," Kyouko continued, turning toward him, "these guys are like, the _best_."

"Are they strong?"

"Strong?" Kyouko asked, cocking her head. "As in music-wise? They've got like, _thousands_ of fans."

Silence.

"I suppose I could test their strength and see it for myself," he replied a moment later. "You speak so highly of them."

"So my opinion _does_ matter, huh?" she teased, smirking back at him. He closed his eyes.

"Only in this instance," he responded. He looked at her without turning his head. "Start it."

"It's loading."

"For how much longer?"

Kyouko tilted her head. "Isn't someone eager?"

"I don't care."

"Oh relax," she drawled, tapping her toe into his left ankle. When he turned to glare at her, she grinned. "I ain't tryin' to kill you, you know. You need to loosen up a little."

His eyebrows rose for a fraction of a second. "You said that already."

"I said that yesterday, _dumbass_," she corrected, her tone dripping with honey, "but it's still true. You're too uptight. So, I'm gonna change that. As soon as this damn thing loads. Must be 'cause these guys aren't from Japan."

"Why does that have anything to do with it?" he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"They're from _Canada_, stupid," she answered, "_that's_ why."

Again, silence.

"Interesting." Kyouko watched the corner of his lips curve upward into what _she_ interpreted as a _predatory_ smirk. He looked almost bloodthirsty, and if she wanted to be honest, she kinda liked it. "Now I _really_ want to bite them to death."

"This is a _game_, you know," Kyouko said. He turned toward her just as the game finished loading. Kyouko sank into her stance, and smiled. "Here we go."

She watched his eyebrows lift before she _went_ – she'd never danced to this song, and even though she'd heard it on that CD, she didn't remember how fast-paced it was in comparison to the other songs she usually danced to – and _because_ she was unfamiliar with the song, she couldn't glance out of the corner of her eye to see whether or not her companion was moving too. The arrows were coming up so fast that she couldn't spare even a second to check.

Deciding that even if he wasn't moving, she could still enjoy the song without him, Kyouko shoved more energy into her legs and plowed through the next lump of arrows with ease, much to her satisfaction. When she adapted to the pace of the song, Kyouko's _whole_ body began to move, _not_ just her legs. She even started to sing along to the lyrics as she _danced_, and gradually, her movements slowed down and flowed seamlessly from one to the next, just like if she was in battle.

Sparing a glance at the raven-haired boy, she smirked, and watched his feet begin to move. Though he didn't look anywhere else but at the screen, she could tell that he was beginning to loosen up, and _move_. Leading the way for the rest of the song, Kyouko and her companion finished rather strongly, with Kyouko barely making the perfect mark, and the boy making novice. Bouncing on her feet, Kyouko turned to face him, and lifted up one finger.

"One more?" she asked, catching her breath at the same time. She watched his eyes close, and his lips twitch upward slightly.

"This time, I'll bite _you_ to death," he responded, as Kyouko scrolled through the list. Finding another song by the same band (she barely managed to stifle her excitement), she spun back into her spot, and turned to him.

"You gonna dance with me this time?" she replied. He gazed back at her, the question evident in his eyes. To give him a clue, she jabbed her elbow at the open space between them, and spun as she swung the butt of her right hand downward, facing him head-on.

"No."

"You'll want to," she pointed out, smiling. "Trust me. It took me awhile to get confident enough to dance in a public place. But playing this game's helped me keep my sanity over the years, in more ways than one."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Are you suggesting that I'm insane?"

"Among other things."

Kyouko's auburn eyes darkened, shadowed beneath her scarlet bangs: "You know, I think I _like_ you."

He snorted. "If you so much as _think_ something else to that nature once more, I'll bite you to death."

"Take a chill pill, would you?" she retorted, turning back to her game screen. "I'm only messing with you."

She didn't notice his smirk as the song started.

This time, she had enough time to glance at him out of the corners of her eyes to see if he was moving or not. And this time, he actually was. A little awkwardly, but all in all, it was progress in comparison to barely moving at all the last song. Shifting toward him on her game board, she coaxed him to follow her movements by bumping her elbow against his shoulder to draw his attention, and skillfully executed each move while keeping his pace matched with hers.

The fact that he was a relatively fast learner helped out – as she'd thought, he _was_ the visual type – and soon into the second verse, he was attuned to her body's movements, and could easily judge where she was going to go and how she was going to move. Soon after, she and he kept pace with the music all the while moving simultaneously, as if they were dance partners. She bounced moves off of his, and he sent them back. Then she bent his moves to what she knew how to do, and returned them, to which they'd repeat the process all over again.

It was almost as if they were fighting again, only there were no physical weapons. Just their feet, arms, legs, and hands. The only times they touched each other were in those spare moments that their moves coincided with the other's, or they were switching game boards for the duration of a few measures, then promptly switching back. There was hardly any eye contact, and when there was, Kyouko would laugh, and take his move and assimilate it into her own, or fire another one back at him, thus continuing the exchange.

Eventually the song ended, and Kyouko's hands fell to her knees as she caught her breath. "Damn. For your first time, you're pretty good."

"I learn quickly," he remarked, his breathing slightly labored, but not as heavy as hers. She'd been going for two whole songs, while he'd only gone for one. "Shall I call this my victory, then?"

"_This_ round maybe," she panted, smiling up at him. "There's still time for round three, isn't there?"

He glanced at the clock at the corner of the screen. "I suppose."

"I'll tell you what," Kyouko said, letting her backside fall to the game board, and leaning back onto her hands, "if you beat me in this last round, I'll treat you to lunch. And I'll bring your tonfa with me."

"And if you win?"

Kyouko smirked. "I'll think about it."

He smirked back. "By all means."

"Wait, before we start," she burst out, taking a half-step toward him. He lifted his eyebrows expectantly. "What's your name?"

His smirk widened.

"If you can manage to defeat me, I'll tell you," he responded, turning back to the game screen. "I'll leave the choice to you."

Kyouko blinked, confused, until she realized he meant the song list. "Oh, gotcha."

Now with a goal in mind, Kyouko pushed play on one of the faster songs, and threw herself into it. Even though they started the next one by staying as far from each other as they could (in terms of moves and pitter-pattering their feet across their game boards), they slowly began to drift back toward each other, and when Kyouko made the first move to break that invisible line of distance, they fell back into the habit they'd picked up from the last song.

She laughed as she slid behind him onto his game board, moving seamlessly into the arrows that flashed back at her from the game screen, before sliding back onto her own, and twisting along with him as she fell in step behind him. To her surprise, he seemed to know her body and how it moved fairly well, despite only dancing with her for two songs prior to the one they were dancing to now. It was almost frightening how easily he could predict what she was going to do, and counter it.

When the last song ended, it took everything in her willpower to keep from falling to the floor. "Alright, I've got to say that I won this one."

"It seems that you defeated me by at least two hundred points," he muttered, disgruntled. "Did you think of your conditions?"

Kyouko hadn't. She'd been too focused on matching her steps to his in order to keep pace with him. But the answer wasn't too hard, and she didn't need to think about it. "Dance with me again?"

"Right now?"

"No, another day," she said, shaking her head. "I'm beat right now. But, I've gotta admit it was worth it."

"I see."

Kyouko took a step closer, and leaned forward. "So, will you tell me your name now?"

He closed his eyes. "Hibari Kyouya."

Kyouko smirked: "Skylark."

"Hn," he snorted, pocketing one hand and turning to the door. Kyouko widened her eyes as he yawned into his left palm, his eyes closing. "I'm tired. I'm going home."

Kyouko put a hand on her hip and straightened up. "Yeah. I'm little tired myself. 'Sides, it's about that time anyway."

As if by magic, Kyouko watched Sayaka part the door open with one hand out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face the blue-haired girl. The boy, _Kyouya_, pocketed his left hand as well, and turned toward Sayaka as well, regarding her with a blank, but hard stare. Kyouko closed her eyes, and smiled.

"You remember my name too, right?" she asked softly, her voice quiet enough for Kyouya to catch wind of it.

"Yes."

"Well, see you next time then," Kyouko said, patting him on the back. He took a step forward, and turned to face her, frowning. She smiled, "Don't worry; I'll take care of your tonfa."

"Hn." Without another word, or sound, he crossed the room, and walked out the door. Sayaka jumped through the glass entrance, and glanced back at Kyouya's retreating shape, and Kyouko's winded, but smiling one.

"What happened?" she asked. Kyouko closed her eyes, and exhaled.

"Nothing really," Kyouko replied, sighing her words out from between tired lips. "Just got my ass handed to me, that's all." Kyouko hopped down from the game board, and stepped up alongside Sayaka. "Let's go. I'm kinda hungry now."

Sayaka smiled, and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

When was Kyouko ever _not_ hungry?

—

**shift.**

—

**note****s**: The next chapter is giving me problems, so I decided to upload this. I was originally not going to upload this until I had the next one finished, but, I kind of like this one. Hopefully, you guys'll like it too? I still own _nothing_.


	4. of crowding herbivores and teasing words

—

**four. **

—

Kyouya _hated_ Mondays.

It wasn't necessarily _them_ that he hated.

He typically spent his Mondays either snoozing on the roof of the High School (he'd _finally_ acknowledged the fact that he'd moved up _at least_ four grades), patrolling with his tonfas in hand during class time because he couldn't stand sitting in the chairs _surrounded_ by all of those herbivores _hoping_ to graduate, or preying on the unfortunate creature that crossed his path at the wrong time, and in the wrong place.

Logically, he didn't hate _Mondays_ – he hated what came _with_ them.

But this Monday in particular hadn't pissed him off the moment he'd walked out the door. In fact, he'd felt much lighter, and happier when he'd left his house this morning. His mortar and pestle hadn't given him problems when he'd grounded the tea leaves. He hadn't burned his fingers on the hot water he'd boiled on the fire pit in the kitchen, and he hadn't scalded his tongue on the tea when he'd sipped it either.

Altogether, it had been a good morning, so far at least.

As to _why_ it had been a good morning, he had a few ideas. And _most_ of those ideas somehow managed to tie back to what had transpired over the weekend, or go back directly to the red-haired girl named Sakura Kyouko. The ones that didn't connect to her connected to his inability to control himself when he'd seen her start to dance.

Wait, that meant that it was in some way, shape or form _connected_ to Sakura Kyouko.

He screwed his eyes shut tighter, and frowned. He didn't understand why he wasn't able to stop thinking about what had happened between them. It hadn't been anything game-changing (in terms of battle, chess, hide and seek, man-hunt, the like) – they'd just _danced_. Not the holding-each-other-close kind of dance that those herbivorous movies tend to show. They'd stood alongside each other on the same battlefield, and moved with the sounds coming from the speakers in front of them.

He had to admit, he'd rather enjoyed it. His body didn't feel so tense anymore, and he felt nimbler, and lighter on his feet. He was aware of every movement he made, how each movement would lead into the next flawlessly and seamlessly. Suffice to say, walking wasn't boring anymore. Each step held new meaning, held new clues as to how he could better improve his battle skills.

_There_ was the major thing.

Her dancing methods that she'd taught him by touch and sight could help him during a battle – he already dodged well enough, but she'd been right, he _did_ need to loosen up. He hadn't wanted to admit it, and he _still_ didn't. But the major thing was that he was tense, and stiff, and he didn't understand why. All he understood was that the heavy, _viscous_ feeling in his muscles and veins was gone now that he'd moved in a way different from what he was used to. A way that he hadn't entirely hated.

He smiled to himself. He hadn't minded dancing with her, strangely. He'd enjoyed the feeling of having something strong beside him, something he didn't feel the burden to fight. He hadn't wanted to fight her on _his_ battlefield – with each movement of her body against the air between them, she _was _fighting, and he was fighting, and they were dueling – _her_ battlefield had suited them just fine. He'd achieved something greater than just winning and losing, but as to what that something was, he wasn't certain.

And it wasn't like he could think about it – the herbivores were running around again.

"Oh, leave Hibari to me, Juudaime!" He opened an eye – say _what_ now? "I'll screw his head back on straight!"

"Now, now, Gokudera, Hibari has his reasons for acting the way he does." Kyouya was certain that it was the baseball player speaking now. And it sounded like he was _attempting_ to defend him. Kyouya knew how well _that_ would turn out. "And it's not like he threatened her. She just wants to _talk_ to him."

She?

He didn't recall any creature of the _female sex_ ever setting up an appointment to speak with him. Hell, no one ever _willingly_ spoke to him. He supposed that that was _his_ fault – he _despised_ crowds, and therefore pushed everyone away before they could _crowd_ him, and prey upon his strength. But the scent in the air was hauntingly familiar – he was shocked he could smell it from as far away as he was, knowing that they were behind a door still and all.  
"You don't have to do that," came the smooth, female voice. Holy hell, it _sounded_ familiar too. Kyouya was on his backside in a moment, frightening the small canary dozing on the inside of his shoulder. The shifts of his feet startled the small hedgehog napping at his knees, earning a squeaked _kyu_. "I can handle 'im just fine."

An uncomfortable feeling wound its way into the pit of his stomach, and tightened.

"But, you know Hibari, Sakura." The baseball idiot was speaking again. Kyouya closed his eyes, and lay back down, purposefully missing the word _sakura_. Perhaps that was the scent he'd picked up earlier – disgusting, herbivorous cherry blossoms. "One wrong word, and you could set him off."

"If he touches me, I'll kick his ass." Hah. Let her try.

"Hey, woman, I like your attitude!" Gokudera. Kyouya was seriously considering biting that silver-haired loudmouth to death in the next minute. Disturbing his sleep with his commentary about attitudes. "You and I should beat his ass together."

"Sorry, pal, but that's for me to do, and me to do only," the female replied. Now he was really curious as to whom this female herbivore was. She was _begging_ to be bitten to death. "He's up here?"

"He _should_ be," a softer, quieter, quivering male voice put in. He smirked. Sawada Tsunayoshi. Even though they were in high school now, he _still_ hadn't hit puberty. Yet, anyway. The door creaked open. "Hi-Hibari-san? Are you out here? Sakura-san would like to speak to you."

He grunted his approval, but didn't lift himself from the concrete. _Sakura-san_ could come to _him_.

"Thanks, little one," she snorted. He could hear a smile grace her features, and the memory of the broad, beaming grin he'd received from Sakura Kyouko after they'd danced together flashed across his mind.

And then, he got it.

_Sakura Kyouko_ was here.

"Figured it out yet?" she asked, touching the soles of her crimson converses to the ground at both sides of his head. He opened his eyes, and looked up at her – the wind was pulling her long scarlet hair out to her left, and her hands were planted on her hips, left knee bent slightly as if she'd been injured on her way to see him – sweeping his gaze up her entire frame. Denim shorts, white sweatshirt, black ribbon. She was grinning. "Hey, Hibari."

He watched Hibird lift off from the inside of his shoulder, and flutter up to be eye to eye with her. Her amber eyes held steady, and her grin didn't fall, but her left hand reached for the bird slowly and gently. Kyouya was about to pull his tonfas out and bite her to death when he remembered that he only had _one_ tonfa to bite with (courtesy of the red-haired wench standing above him), and then Hibird chirped and happily perched upon the finger she held out to him.

It was an odd sight, to say the least.

It wasn't just because of the way her eyes lit up as she stood up straighter, holding the bird up closer to her face for better look. It wasn't just because of the way Roll, the little hedgehog that had been peacefully snoozing at Kyouya's feet before he'd startled him awake, ran for her feet and nosed her ankles as if asking for her affection. It wasn't in the way the scarlet tresses clinging to the sides of her face blew across her cheeks in the wind, or the soothing, rippling motion of her ponytail against her back.

It was because those were _his_ animals, and they looked _happy_ with _her_.

But when Roll nosed the top of his head soothingly (the animal was more in tune with Kyouya's emotions than Kyouya was himself), Kyouya forced himself to sit up, and rise to his feet, turning to face the red-haired girl enthralled by his pet canary. Just the glitter of her eyes was enough to set him off. But he didn't reach for Hibird – he knew Kyouko meant no threat. He was simply, _jealous_. Of what, he wasn't sure.

But it was an odd feeling.

"Heh," Kyouko laughed, lifting her auburn eyes to Kyouya, "my sister Momo wanted one of these birds to keep as a pet when I was younger. My mother said it was alright as long as she fed and took care of it, but my father was against it. Do you know why?"

Stupid question. "…Hn?"

She glanced up from Hibird through the curtain of scarlet caressing her face. "Because they make too much noise, according to him. But this one's quiet as a mouse."

"You didn't hear him chirping earlier?" Kyouya asked, his tone dry. She couldn't be serious. Hibird? Quiet? Those two words didn't belong in the same sentence, unless the bird was sleeping. He was almost always singing the Namimori School Anthem, which was fine by Kyouya. Unless the raven-haired prefect wanted to sleep. _Then_, he'd need peace and quiet.

"I did," Kyouko answered, "s'just that he hasn't said anything else, which is strange. He came right to me, too."

He knew she was expecting him to say something along the lines of _he likes you_ when she turned her amber eyes to his. But unfortunately for Kyouko, he didn't have the capacity to say something as patronizing and herbivorous as that. The entire thought in itself was disgusting. _Just like_ that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Hibird turned his head and glanced around as she flattened her hand beneath him, the bird hopping up onto the tips of her fingers as she curved them to provide the canary a suitable perch. He couldn't help but _stare_ at her holding his bird – it was an _odd_ feeling coursing through his veins – even as Roll poked his nose into Kyouya's ankle, desperate for attention. When he didn't receive any from the skylark, he padded over to Kyouko's side and nosed her shoe, earning a flinch from the red-haired girl.

She blinked, and looked down, her honey-brown eyes locking together with the hedgehog's. The only thing that came out of her mouth was this: "Is that even _legal_?"

_That_ comment earned a snort from Kyouya, and a few choked noises that Kyouya translated as _barely_ contained laughter. Gokudera was going to _die_. Not only for crowding, but also for making noise.

Kyouya wasn't entirely sure how to explain Roll's presence, and thus changed the subject. "Why did you come here?"

"I was curious," she drawled, letting Hibird lift off from her fingertips as she knelt down to carefully pet Roll. Happy that someone was paying attention to him, he _kyu_ed loudly and cheerfully, nuzzling his face into Kyouko's gentle, lifted palm. While Hibird, not quite content with being out of the picture, touched ground just to Roll's side, and chirped. "Do you _not_ give these guys much attention, or are they just _that_ competitive?"

"How well I care for them is none of your concern," Kyouya replied, closing his eyes. "Why did you come here?"

"I was curious," she repeated.

"Of what?"

"I figured since you're still technically a kid and all that you'd be in school," Kyouko explained, scooping up Roll cautiously in one hand, and holding him up to her face. "And since you don't look _that_ much older than me, I figured you'd be in high school, so I decided to stop by, 'cause I was bored as hell. On the way here, I got stopped by some asshole in a black coat or something, who told me that I wasn't allowed on campus during hours, so I lied and said that I was late for class. I bumped into Sawada Tsunayoshi and his gaggle of buddies, and when I said that I was looking for you, they offered to bring me here. And, here we are."

Kyouya's eyebrows twitched.

"You lied to a member of the Disciplinary Committee?" he asked, very calmly. The thought that he only had one tonfa to strike with was at the very forefront of his mind. He wouldn't be able to beat her easily if push came to shove, considering how much he relied on them and how easily she could evade his attacks.

"Yep," she chirped. The others crowded near the door gasped.

"Oh no," Tsunayoshi said. Gokudera had already pulled out his red box and lit a pure crimson flame upon the ring on his finger.

"Don't worry Juudaime! I'll protect Sakura, if you want me to!" The baseball idiot was next.

"Now, now, Gokudera, I'm sure Hibari wouldn't hit a girl," Takeshi put in. "I'm sure he has at least _some_ morals."

So the baseball herbivore would be joining the loudmouth for application of discipline. Just as well, Kyouya was pissed off anyways.

Kyouko, having noticed Kyouya's silence, stood up, and stepped forward to be toe-to-toe with him. "Got a problem with that?"

"She's _provoking_ him!" Tsunayoshi exclaimed, widening his eyes.

Kyouya recognized the lack of distance between them to be about two inches, if most. He could see all of the crevices and laces in her auburn irises, make out all of the individual strands of hair clinging to her peach-colored forehead. She wasn't wearing any make-up either, he noted.

"Get back to class," he barked. Kyouko merely smirked smugly, as the other herbivores turned their backs on the red-haired girl standing in front of him. At first reluctantly, they waved their farewells to Kyouko, before opening the door and filing through one by one. He lifted his lone tonfa, and raised it to be level with her throat. "You…"

She tilted her head: "Yeah?"

"Where are you being educated?" he asked, frowning at the smirk sitting proudly upon her features. Kyouko crossed her arms at his question.

"Mitakihara," she responded lazily.

"Why are you here?"

"'Cause I was bored as hell."

His tonfa inched closer to her neck. "If you don't leave the premises in _five minutes_, I'll bite you to death."

"You know," Kyouko drawled, shrugging off his death threat, "I can _just _as easily take that one away too."

He figured she was referring to his tonfa. "Don't flatter yourself."

"It's only flattery when someone else is praising you, dumbass," she snorted. "Have you _not_ heard of a dictionary?"

Kyouya curved the corner of his lip up. She blinked at the sight of it. "It seems you wish to anger me, Sakura Kyouko."

"Nah," she sighed, yawning as she threw her hands back behind her head. "Pissing people off on purpose ain't my style. Working them up is one thing. It's more fun pushing them over the edge gradually; you know what I'm sayin'?"

Sakura Kyouko was a piece of work, but _hell_ was she _interesting_.

"I suppose I misunderstood you," he said. She blinked again, and put her hands on her hips, leaning forward.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked, her long scarlet hair billowing outward within the binds of her onyx ribbon. "This doesn't sound like you at all."

Kyouya's smirk turned predatory – he watched Kyouko take a half-step back, and followed her forwards, knowing he had the intimidation factor on his side. "I'll play your game."

"I'm not playing a game, Hibari Kyouya," she snorted, taking another step back. Roll and Hibird scattered from her feet the instant Kyouya took another step forward, keeping pace with her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're on school property without permission."

"And that gives you license to _breathe_ all over me?"

Silence fell between them.

He could smell her discomfort on her skin, feel it in the air, taste it on his lips. He knew the dynamics between them had shifted, and he couldn't help but be the slightest bit disappointed. Where had the carnivorous aura he'd felt from her during the weekend gone? _That_ Sakura Kyouko was the one he wanted to bite to death, not this shy and hesitant version.

She was standing still now, her amber eyes poised and polished, yet still as rough and brazen as when he'd first met her. The posture of her stance was confident now that he'd ceased to advance, straight and tall, her legs and feet locked where she'd placed them. He could feel something burning inside her, pulsing from her entire body, braced by the aura that now shrouded her figure. His own bloodlust reacted to that burning, igniting the flashes of flint in his eyes, a shadow falling over his smirking face.

He wanted to _bite_ her, oh so badly.

Kyouko's left hand tensed at her side, and she flipped it over onto its backside at her left hip, showing him her palm instead. "Keep your shirt on, Hibari. I'm not in the mood to rough you up."

His eyebrow lifted – _she_, rough _him_ up?

"Though, gotta hand it to you, you had me scared for a few seconds there," Kyouko sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "Those kids weren't kiddin'. You've got a nasty little death aura goin' on."

"Are you afraid now?"

Kyouko smirked. "Nope. 'Cause, I know I'm the stronger of the two of us."

So she was as _confident_ as she was _interesting_. He liked this herbivore better already.

"And that would be because?" he asked, raising his lone tonfa. She closed her eyes, and lifted her palms.

"You've only got one tonfa to fight with, for one, and for two," she answered, leaning toward him, her face drawing close, "I'm not like the others you've fought before."

"I don't see a difference between you, and the others that I've bitten to death," he pointed out, holding his ground.

Her face didn't draw back – the fire in her eyes was molten lava now. He could see that she was _burning_ to fight him, to play with him again, and had half a mind to indulge her, but the sight of the crowding herbivores falling through the door onto their stomachs snapped him out of his bloodlusting state. Kyouko closed her eyes, and sighed as the herbivores struggled to crawl to their feet, and pulled back, her scarlet bangs shifting across her forehead.

"Dear _god_, you kids are _pathetic_," Kyouko snorted, spinning around on one foot. "And you're supposed to be the _strongest fighters_ in _Namimori_? Yeah, like hell you are."

He blinked – she couldn't know anything about the _Mafia_, could she?

"Sakura-san," Tsunayoshi started, rubbing the back of his head, "when you didn't follow us, we got worried, so we decided to come back to get you."

"And why were you worried?" Kyouko drawled, rolling her head to the side. "I told you, didn't I? I can handle this kid _just_ fine."

"But—" Kyouko smirked, and patted a hand on Kyouya's tonfa.

"'Sides, he's only got one tonfa to fight with," Kyouko explained, smiling. He wanted to bite that smug smirk off her face, but restrained himself. She had the advantage with her hand on his weapon, after all. He _would_ bite her to death, all in good time. "That's one less attack I've gotta worry 'bout."

"Where did his other one go?" Takeshi asked, standing up. Kyouko whistled a few high notes (though they were off-key), before turning toward the sky.

"Beats me." Kyouko tilted her head back to face Takeshi, her smirk broad and wide. Kyouya could see her fangs clearly. "Why don'cha ask Skylark over here?"

"Skylark…" Takeshi blinked, confused for a moment. Then, he got it. "You mean Hibari?"

"Who knows?" Kyouko responded, running her fingers through her long scarlet ponytail. She looked back at Kyouya, and gave him a beaming grin. "Well, guess I've pissed you off enough for today. And since I don't know how far I can push you without sending you over that _edge_ we were talking about earlier, I'll hit the road for right now."

"Good idea," he snorted back, narrowing his eyes. She took her hand off of his, and elegantly spun around, spraying a cascade of crimson across his line of sight with her movements.

She would give him a _beautiful_ challenge if they ever went at it.

She walked past Tsunayoshi and the others without a single backwards glance. She stopped by the brown-haired herbivore and smiled down at him, before patting him on the top of his head as if to praise him for a job well done. Once she'd finished with that action, she continued toward the open door, and started down the stairs, laughing as she went.

If the sound of her laughter was _any_ indication of her _carnivorous intent_, he wasn't sure what else was.

"Hibari." He turned back to the baseball herbivore, and snorted. Takeshi took that as his cue to continue, and stepped forward. "Where did your other tonfa go?"

"Ask Sakura Kyouko," he grumbled, sliding his other back into a safe place. "_She_ has it."

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: Holy _crap_ are these two _sexy_. But to give like an _age_ background here, Kyouko's seventeen-eighteen, and Hibari's around eighteen-nineteen, so they don't really look any different (aside from Kyouko, 'cause she _grew_). Just putting that out there. This is AU, so there shouldn't be any problems with that. I think.

**notes2**: Thank you all for your reviews, follows, favorites, and also taking the time to read this. I appreciate it. Please keep up the feedback? And, I still own _nothing_.


	5. of remembrance and ass beatings

—

**five. **

—

If dancing loudly in the street wasn't against Disciplinary Committee (or rather, _Hibari Kyouya-instated_) regulations, she would've busted out every single move she knew, and then some.

She was honestly _happy_ – happier than she'd been in a _long_ time.

It almost made her think that the trouble with Rokudo Mukuro was all a dream; she blushed and bit down on the pocky stick at the center of her lips, narrowing her eyes. She knew that Rokudo Mukuro had left something reminiscent of a Witch's Kiss on her. He'd taken _more_ than her wish magic when he'd left her broken and disillusioned. She remembered how battered and bruised she'd been looking into his heterochromatic irises for the last time, when he'd laid groveling on the ground beneath the weight of her body, pleading for her to reconsider.

She remembered how tempted she was to bite back her hurt, her fear, and her pain.

But in the end, _she'd_ broken _him_ just as _he'd_ broken _her_, and barely managed to find her way back to Sayaka and the others. She hadn't heard from him after that, as she'd assumed. But something inside her had still hoped he'd apologize, he'd get down on his knees and _beg_ for her forgiveness (he'd always called her his _Red Queen_, his highest priority), like in all of those movies Madoka had _forced_ her to watch to help her get over her bitterness and anger.

When in all actuality, it had only made things _worse_.

Kyouko tightened her left hand at her side. If she ever saw that bastard again, she'd rip his face into thousands of pieces, drag him down into the burning depths of Hell and back, before cobbling his ass up into boots for her to smash into the dirt beneath her shoes. She _hated_ him with every fiber of her being. He'd left her in a state of despair; she had very _nearly_ become a Witch in the days that followed his betrayal, only to be brought back to her senses by Sayaka.

She couldn't go back. Not to _that_ time. _Especially_ not now, not now that she was happier than ever. She wondered if it had something to do with her little skylark she'd been indulging for the past few days. She smirked.

Hell, it had _everything_ to do with her skylark.

He made her feel _human_ again. Made her laugh, gave her the desire to do _something_ other than rip his face off, or shove her inner _i'm badass, so bow down_ tendencies on him. He was just as confident as she was, and every bit as fiery and explosive. But there was something about him that drew her to him, something aloof, and alluring, and _endearing_. It wasn't his enthralling cobalt-silver eyes, or his windswept, unkempt mop of black hair. Or even his handsome, if not slightly _scary_ face.

She had seen what that face looked like when he smiled, though the smile he'd given her wasn't really a _smile_, it looked more animalistic than anything. And kinda _sexy_, actually.

She knew it was against the rules, but she _wanted_ to see him again, play with him until she sent him _tumbling_ over the edge into the depths of the abyss she had _yet_ to identify. Just the thought of watching him grow closer and closer to his boiling point made her laugh – Sayaka had told her she was sadistic, but Kyouko had reasoned that the term _bitch_ suited her _much_ better – and her lips curved upward into a smirk. She didn't just _want _it. She was _starving_ for it.

Which reminded her; she still had one of those fish-shaped cookies in her pocket.

Pulling it out, and biting into the head moments later, she felt _it_.

Kyouko jolted as the feeling brushed across her senses, intangible, shadow-like in both _nature_ and _attribute_. Holding her left hand out, she summoned her Soul Gem, and reached out with her senses. It didn't take long for her Soul Gem to fill the sidewalk with brooding scarlet light – Kyouko held it close to her, let it wash over her entire body and ripple through her hair – feel it on her skin, brace her Magical Girl senses with her own innate power.

It touched the edges of her reach with teasing fingers, and her amber eyes widened, before she tightened her grip on her Soul Gem and took off after it. She wasn't certain if it was a Witch, the feeling was similar, but there were no magic patterns for her to follow, to guide her to it. It was like she was stumbling blindly through the dark, and Kyouko _hated_ that feeling. She liked having control over everything, knowing where everything she touched was, and knowing exactly what the hell she was dealing with at all times.

But this… _This_ was different. And it was gonna _piss_ _her off_.

She ran down the street toward the residential areas – the _completely _opposite direction of where Kyouko and her friends' penthouse stood – covering the beaming light of her Soul Gem with her fingers as best she could. There were still people wandering around at this time of evening, which shocked her considering what often times lay in store for them should they stray too close to a barrier or a hatchling.

She caught the tail of the shadow on the left side of her magical aura, and rushed after it, rounding the corner sharply and barely managing to avoid crashing into a street lamp. She elegantly hopped up onto the bench that lay in her way before flipping off of it into the air, hoping that by being in the air, she might catch sight of this _thing_ that was _tickling_ her ignited magical aura.

Scanning her darkened and darken_ing _surroundings from the night sky, Kyouko flipped downward onto a tree branch, catching it with her free right hand and swinging back down onto the sidewalk. She landed on the concrete in a graceful crouch, before taking off once more, following the pokes and prods in the southwest and northwest edges of her magical aura. She knew it was close – the shadow was almost _pressing_ itself against the sensitivity of her senses, seeping into her pores and cradling her skin – when she rounded the last corner.

Then, she caught sight of it.

Or rather, _them_.

Shadowed by the moonlight, they were slender and tall, with a modest frame and fragile, but strong looking arms and legs. The stance of the person standing in front of her seemed familiar in a lingering, haunting way, as if she'd seen that same posture in something reminiscent of a dream. She figured she'd been having too many _dreams_ lately for that to be true, and planted her feet, bending her legs and holding her ground.

There was strong magic, or power in the air, and it was coming from _them_.

"Found ya," Kyouko murmured, curving the corner of her lip upward. "Now, tell me who the hell you are and what the hell you're doing on my territory, Magical Girl."

The shape remained silent, only gazed back at her steadily, quietly. There was something familiar in the way the shape looked at her, something almost nostalgic. It reminded her of times she'd rather not remember. Kyouko's grip tightened on her Soul Gem, as she swept it outward, summoning her Impulse Spear moments later.

"If you're deciding on staying a mute, I'll beat it outta you," Kyouko said, holding out her spear. "And ain't gonna be pretty, so I suggest you start talkin'."

"I am not a Magical Girl," the shape responded. The voice seemed vaguely familiar as well, almost as if… "_Sakura Kyouko_."

She paused.

"Have we met somewhere before?" she asked, shifting her Impulse Spear into her right hand.

The shape merely pushed something back from the tip of his nose (glasses, Kyouko supposed), and snorted, before reaching into his pockets to pull something from them. Kyouko's eyes widened as power throbbed upon the air, a single hollow _drip_ preceding the burst of bright blue flames around twin orbs in the shape's hands. The flames' surfaces wavered and shifted, rippling as if they were alive and beaming with water. They reminded Kyouko of Sayaka's magic in terms of serenity and elegance – Kyouko's lip curved upward, and she sank into her stance.

The shape's glasses sparkled bright silver in the moonlight, highlighting Kyouko's starlit reflection: "I suppose I could entertain you, for old time's sake."

"Them flames don't look familiar, there, Four-Eyes," Kyouko snorted in response, before raising her chin slightly. "Just as well. At least this'll be _interesting_."

"As eager as ever, I see."

Kyouko smirked in the darkness.

Without a moment's hesitation, she charged forward, running across the pavement with her spear in hand, amber eyes focused directly upon the wavering flames that cloaked his weapons. The shape pulled his right hand back, and flung the flaming weapon toward her, silver light streaming from the back of the spinning sphere. Kyouko's auburn eyes narrowed, and she slid to a stop, swinging her spear across the air to deflect the sphere he'd aimed toward her, the sphere clattering to the ground at the sweep of her spear.

Another flew toward her, and she leapt for it, swinging her weapon downward and spinning around as the previous one rose to attack once more. Her feet danced across the cement of the open street – flowing freely, as seamless as fire itself – and the poise of her arms in the air moved as if they'd never be broken. Even as metal, blue flame tipped spikes flew through the air toward her, born from the spheres she'd continuously deflected with her graceful movements, she was still elegant and unstoppable.

Kyouko sliced her weapon to her right, narrowing her eyes against the scarlet hair moving with the momentum of the deflection, and straightened up, holding her spear cautiously in front of her. She knew those flames were _dangerous_ – her arms tingled as the remaining few flew harmlessly past her – but she also knew they weren't magic. They weren't real either, just a manifestation of _something_ inside the enemy in front of her. She wondered if the bookworm Homura might have a clue as to what the hell she's dealing with, and thought once about materializing, but the next sphere that glances off the right side of her face draws Kyouko's attention back to the battle.

Then she felt it. _Numbness_.

She recoiled from the orb on a string quickly enough to evade the spikes that flew out to lodge themselves into the side of her face, raising her spear to ward them off as she back-flipped into the stream of moonlight at the streetlamp behind her. Her hands pressed into the ground and held her there for only a moment, for the spikes continued, footsteps following her in order to keep her in their line of sight for a proper aim at her. The instant her feet touched back down, she surged forward, bringing her spear downward on the incoming needles and sphere without hesitation.

She brought her head, shoulders, and face upward, holding her spear as it was a sword in front of her, amber eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you, if you aren't a Magical Girl?"

"I am not obliged to tell you that," the shape responded, pulling their weapons back into the palms of their hands. She watched the blue flames light up once more, and shifted her spear forward, advancing a step.

He fired them again, one after the other, and Kyouko jumped into attack mode, running to the left as she sliced one of them down toward the cement with one upward and one downward swing, before running a few steps to her left and slicing through the second once more with one turning upward cut. He pulled them back, and Kyouko caught sight of the string holding them to his fingers, and surmised that they were something reminiscent of yo-yo's, or sling shots.

"It's only polite and courteous to tell me what the fuck you are before you attack me," Kyouko snapped; as she ran forward to swing her spear into the path of his next attack. Her long red ponytail fell behind her slowly, caught in the wind of the force her swing creates. She was angry now. Lifting herself back to her previous stance, she faced the attacker with burning auburn eyes. "Answer me, damn it. What _hell _are you, and why are you in Namimori?"

He didn't answer, only fired his weapons again. But this time, instead of just needles, a huge mass of those azure flames that he wrapped around them surged forward, bracing the needles with strength and protecting them with their wavering skins. Kyouko planted her feet and raised her spear to catch the blast of flames along the sharp tip of it, and braced herself, watching the two edges of the blast fly over and beside her with cautious, frightened eyes.

Then the needles hit from within the flames, bringing numbness to her legs, and arms.

Kyouko fell backwards with a gasp, flicking her spear to block the sphere that came soon after as she tumbled to the street. She barely saw the azure fire weave into her long red ponytail as it wove together with the dust and sapphire light rising from the ground. Her cheek tingled as the scarlet-sapphire strands touched it, tranquilizing the side of her face as she swayed back to her feet. At the sight of her still standing, he fired once more, this time, merging all of the needles together into one.

Kyouko sliced through the lone projectile with ease, before leaping away from its splintered parts, rolling across the ground to evade the next attacks he launched at her. One jabbed into the cement at her feet before she hopped away from it, the next grazing the skin of her hip and numbing her left leg before planting itself into the street behind her. More flew at her as she somersaulted across the right lane of the road, trapping her in the barbed wire of needles.

She rose from her somersault and sliced at the next one that flew at her, her form lingering within her arm for a moment before he sent another flame-infused blast screeching for her left side. Kyouko moved to jump, but her left hip wouldn't budge. The beam hit the left lane of street, wind, dust, and splinters of fire shoving against her left arm and left cheek, roaring with the thrill of the chase. Kyouko closed her eyes against the blast and bit the side of her mouth, pushing back and managing to straighten into the weakness of the tempest of wind and power, opening her eyes into narrowed amber slits.

This bastard was beating her.

_Badly_.

She couldn't get anywhere close, and she knew it. Her crimson bangs blew across her forehead, chilling her skin as the blue fire licked her temples tauntingly, teasingly. She would have to materialize, and she knew that as well. The spheres bounced back into the man's waiting hands, and one shoved something up his face, the wind dying down beside Kyouko. But her narrow-eyed and determined gaze didn't waver, even as he lowered his weapons and watched the moonlight cast a silver shadow across his face.

She watched the light beam against a smooth, clear surface. "This is stupid. Just tell me who the hell you are. I hate beating around the bush."

"As impatient as ever, I see," the man stated, shifting his glasses away from the light. Kyouko widened her eyes, and lowered her weapon.

"Chikusa? Is that _you_?" The man flinched away from the moonlight, hiding his face once more. Kyouko merely stepped toward him, releasing her Impulse Spear and gathering her Soul Gem back into its ring form on her left hand. "You little bastard. Don't walk away from me."

He was already gone.

Kyouko's right leg gave out from holding her up, and she toppled to her knees, touching her hands to the cement for a moment before raising her upper body from the ground once more. If it really had been Kakimoto Chikusa she'd _just_ seen, that meant that Joshima Ken couldn't be too far behind or ahead. She managed a bitter smile through the numbness of her face and the breath of the wind, reveling in the elegant rise and fall of the scarlet arc behind her.

It meant _Rokudo Mukuro_ couldn't be too far away, either.

Kyouko's smile grew bittersweet.

"It was only a matter of time before you found me, Mukuro."

—

**shift**.

—

**notes**: Well, here's the drama half of the plot starting. I'm almost _ashamed_ to say that "I Wanna Go" by: Britney Spears was the battle music for this chapter. But hey, it worked.

**notes2**: Thank you very, very much for your reviews. I appreciate them. Please keep it up? I still own _nothing_.


	6. of ramblings and infrared light

—

**six. **

—

Hibari Kyouya had a theory about _idiots_.

Though one-sided, it had served him well during his time as a prefect of Nami-Middle, and he _still_ followed it, even though he was no longer in middle school. He supposed it was because he wasn't certain of how to deal with others aside from the traditional and characteristic lashing of tonfas and sly smirk or two. But this theory had never been applied to _anyone_ or _anything_ except for herbivores before. But he had to be honest; he wasn't necessarily _adverse_ to it.

Because he was absolutely certain that he was an _idiot_ for allowing her to _fester_ in his veins like some dirty disease.

She was on his mind again – the way she moved, the way she talked, the carnivorous sound of her laughter echoing up and down the stairs when she'd left the school – it had only been two days since he'd last seen her, and he was _already_ growing anxious. He wasn't sure of _why_ he wanted to see her so badly, but at the very least, he knew that he wanted to bite her to death.

Her death aura, her hostile intent, her animalistic desire to kill, it was ripe and every bit as _fierce_ as his was. It had been a long time since he'd found an opponent that made him want to rip them to pieces like a depraved and lusting demon, but in his mind, the scarlet-haired temptress was prey, and he was the predator. But that little display on the school roof, what he supposed was merely the flexing of her demonic nature and the sharpening of her fangs had impressed him.

Oh how he _longed_ to bite her.

To achieve that end, he'd decided to look around the arcade.

And, sure enough, there she was, dancing away in the very back of the room, her long crimson hair whipping through the air behind her. Spotting his target, Kyouya pushed the door open and stepped through, pocketing his hands as he continued toward the back of the room. He heard the door shut softly behind him as he crept up on Kyouko, watched her hips sway as she hopped back and forth across the game board.

She was dancing to some pop song – not one of the songs that they'd danced to over the weekend, and not like one of them either – but the tone of it suited her stance and posture well. It even had the same sharp, brazen tone as she herself carried, and the lyrics tasted spicy on his tongue as he continued toward her, stopping just behind her.

Tapping a flurry of arrows into the machine to finish up, Kyouko swung around (her movements were as graceful as ever), and stepped forward, holding out her arms for balance as the game cheered, _perfect_. Sighing as she lifted herself back up straight, she turned around and faced him, flashing him her thousand dollar, mega-watt grin that _always_ lingered in his mind whenever they parted. It was _elastic_, but genuine all the same.

"Hey, Hibari," she panted, panting her left hand to the back her thigh and brushing her fingers through the long, straight cherry-colored hair at her right temple. "I wasn't expecting you to come today, to be honest."

He decided to humor her. It was pay back, considering the fact that he was currently giving her a few once-overs all in a row. "Why's that?"

"Because, you know," she started, fumbling for words. His eyes fell upon her sleeveless black shirt, her short denim shorts, the pale bareness of her upper thighs, before sweeping upward to take in her entire frame.

Damn, she was edgily _beautiful_.

"_Wao_," he murmured, his eyes closing slightly. Kyouko blinked, lowering her right hand slightly.

"Huh?"

His eyes closed as he registered the fact that he'd spoken his satisfaction aloud. "Finish your thought, herbivore."

"Were you staring at my chest?"

He frowned in irritation, turning around.

"You _were_, weren't you?" she pressed, coming around his left side, a smirk playing on her lips. He noted the pressure of her palm on the right side of his face, pulling his eyes back to hers. Her lips were so, so close. He wanted to _devour_ her – his face inched closer to hers as her fingertips pulled at the strands framing his temple. "You little pervert."

She seemed unaware of his intentions, as far as he could tell. His face drifted closer, and closer, and closer, gradually settling at just a _fraction_ away from hers. He could clearly see each individual scar in her auburn irises, smell the sweet scent of cherries and warm summer air on her skin, could taste the ripples of cherry-flavored lip gloss on his tongue. She didn't seem affected by the lack of distance – she seemed like she wanted it _too_.

Then, she spoke:

"Look at _you_ getting all _hot_ and _bothered_." He blinked. Their lips were _barely_ touching; with each movement hers made, he could feel the bows and arcs of hers brushing against his. With a fingertip pressed onto his parted mouth, she breathed against his face: "There's no rush, _school boy_."

Her voice was so low, so husky, and her lips were so _kissable_ that he _almost_ took the chance she'd practically _handed_ to him.

But then, her lips were gone and her long scarlet hair whipped him in the face as she turned around, pulling on his hand. "C'mon, let's dance."

"No." He tugged on her wrist, his desire thrumming through his body, against the air between them. Oh how he wanted to bite her, right _then_ and _there_. Once and for all. But despite her slender frame, she was fairly strong, and durable. She resisted his strength with planted feet and locked legs, instead rolling her head back to face him.

"You promised," she said, grinning. He blinked. "You said that if I beat you I could come up with any condition I wanted. This was my condition – you're dancing with me."

He never went back on his word, and he knew that, but this time, _this time_, he couldn't be next to her without wanting to bite her to death. "I don't care. We're not finished here."

"I'm not moving from this spot, Hibari, until you get your ass in gear and climb up here yourself," she replied. "We can continue flirting up here."

_Flirting?_ "That's the most herbivorous sentence I've ever heard."

"Don't tell me you don't know what _flirting_ is." Kyouko scanned his face, searching for a light bulb, anything to let her know that he understood what she was talking about. When she came up with nothing, she grumbled something under her breath in what he'd recently dubbed _herbivore-speak_ (when in reality, it's called _Sakura Kyouko-lingo_), before hauling him up with her. "Guess you really are a dumbass. Looks like I'll have to use small words so you can understand it."

"Are you implying that I'm stupid?"

She smirked. "Among other things."

"_Herbivore_."

"Well, I'm laughing my _ass_ off at the fact that someone as good-looking as you has no _effing_ clue what _flirting_ is," she responded, stepping back from him and placing her hands on her hips. "Honestly. Have you ever _seen_ the way girls look at you?"

"No, and I don't intend to."

"They look at you like you're something to eat," Kyouko stated bluntly, turning to the game screen.

Her crimson hair slid from the slope of her back as she bent over to pick a song for them to dance to. He watched the long, pin-straight locks shimmer and glisten like a waterfall of blood in the light of the fluorescents, and barely suppressed the urge to touch them, thread his fingers through them. Kyouko straightened up, her long tresses swaying across her back as she faced the game screen with a narrow-eyed look.

"Huh. Haven't heard these kids in a while," she huffed, patting the soles of her black bowler shoes down on the arrows set into the game board in an effort to make it start. "You ready, Hibari?"

"No." She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"C'mon, you little pansy," she muttered, turning to face him with her auburn eyes. "I know you're tense again. This'll help, trust me."

"_No_," he repeated, grabbing her wrist in his hand. "We're not finished."

"Finished with _what_?" she demanded, staggering backward as he pulled on her arm. "Hibari, what the hell!"

He breathed into her ear: "I'd prefer not to be patient, _Sakura Kyouko_."

He watched her entire body erupt in chills.

"Yeah? Well, I don't like giving everything away too soon," she snorted, her back flat to his chest. Then a smirk twisted her features: "Unless, you're afraid I'll beat your ass?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "I refuse to be defeated by the likes of you."

"Then let me go and prove it," she said. "We're wasting time I don't have. I have places to go, things to do. There are more important things that I've gotta worry about other than pleasing you."

"Pleasing me?"

"Yes," Kyouko replied, nodding once. He barely noticed the flush of pink beginning to spread across the sides of her face. He smiled at it, but kept the curve of his lips hidden by the plume of crimson at the crown of her head. He could almost imagine what it would taste like to sink his teeth into her neck – the smell of her hair was _intoxicating_. "Pleasing you. And me. And everyone else on this _goddamn_ planet. Not only that, but some asshole decided to set foot on _my_ territory last night—"

He blinked; _her territory?_

"Namimori does not belong to you," he responded. She shifted against him, managing to turn around and bare her fangs.

"Wanna bet?" she taunted, her eyes glittering with a hellish firelight. "That asshole was like, all the way in the suburbs by the time I caught him. I gave him a beating, but I'm not sure if he'll stay away. He was close to Hanabusa Drive."

Sawada Tsunayoshi's residence.

Deciding to ignore the proclamation that Namimori was _her_ territory for the time being, Kyouya's inner-prefect began to reemerge. "What did this herbivore look like?"

"I didn't get a clear view of his face," she whispered, growing quiet. His grip on her slackened, and he allowed her to slip from his grasp and take her place on her game board. "But, he fought with these blue flames. They had some sort of spell put on 'em or somethin', 'cause when they touched me, I felt… numb, I guess."

He knew they were deathperation flames, and as for the class, he was certain that they were Rain. The only Rain class user he could think of at the moment was Yamamoto Takeshi, but Takeshi was a member of the Namimori community, and therefore could not be a suspect. Or was it the CEDEF herbivore with the marine mammal?

"Weapons?" Kyouya asked, getting onto his game board beside hers. Kyouko clutched her left hand to her heart as she spun around, her long red hair blowing through the air.

"Spheres," she answered, dancing with her feet alone. "They seemed to be connected to something else, something that was feeding them more power."

So it _couldn't_ be the CEDEF herbivore. "Anything else?"

"Nothing you need to know," she replied, spinning around again and pulling her hands up over her head.

He watched, raising an eyebrow, before she pulled them back down and held them beside her and half-hopped, half-danced in place. It was possibly one of the weirdest, yet _coolest_ (let the records show that Hibari Kyouya never uses the word _cool_, or any derivatives of _cool_, making this a special occasion) things he'd ever seen. And if she wasn't pretending to ignore him by throwing herself into the song she was currently dancing to, he might've praised her.

"So," she huffed, pulling her legs underneath herself and stepping forward onto the upper arrow, before hopping back and pushing the left and right ones simultaneously. "Anything else you wanna know, before I beat you?"

"You know who this herbivore is, don't you?" he asked, crossing his arms. She jabbed her elbow out, and jerked her feet across the arrows beneath her in quick, sharp movements. "And there's no point in lying to me – I'll bite you to death."

She lifted two fingers and held them up to him as she executed her next move. "Two words: one tonfa."

She had a point. "Which reminds me, where is it?"

"Under my mattress," she tossed back, bringing her long head of hair back up.

She hadn't a _clue_ of how utterly _pissed off_ Kyouya was in that moment.

"Return it." She smirked. He reconsidered his next words at the sight of it. "_Now_."

"And if I refuse?" Kyouko asked, shanking her arms before spinning again. She didn't sound out of breath, and she hadn't missed a step, even though she was talking to him at the same time. "You gonna whip me?"

"Perhaps."

She threw him a haughty grin: "I like it _rough_."

He closed his eyes. "_Disgusting_."

"_Ha_," she laughed, spinning on one foot now, her crimson hair swaying out behind her. "You ain't heard _anything_ yet."

There was more?

"You are a filthy, disgusting" – she was up in his face, her auburn eyes half-lidded, lips gently parted, scarlet hair ruffled and unkempt – "don't get so close."

She smirked about a centimeter from his lips. "Of course, _master_."

He bristled.

Kyouko, at the sight of it, gave him her hard little laugh: _Ha_. _Ha_. _Ha_. Her heels clicked as she tapped out the remaining arrows, before taking her victory stance once more. "You're so fun to rile up."

"Do you have a death wish?" he asked casually, well, for _Kyouya_ at least. Kyouko smirked, and took his hand, hopping down from the game board and beginning to lead him toward the exit. He pulled – but this time, she didn't stumble backwards. "Let me go."

"I wanna show you something," she called back from over her shoulder, "you'll—"

She stopped dead.

Then, her aura suddenly spiked—

_roared_—

—into her left hand.

"_Shit_." Her eyes were wide, trembling, shaking. "_He's_ back."

Kyouya blinked. "To whom are you referring?"

"The bastard from last night," she replied, stepping out onto the sidewalk cautiously, and glancing from side to side. "I've gotta find him. Who knows what the hell he's gonna do."

He watched the aura gather at the center of her left hand, flow into the small silver band on her middle finger, resonate with the small ellipse symbol on her fingernail – what _was_ that? "Lead me to him."

"I'm sorry, Hibari," she murmured, turning toward him suddenly, facing him with drawn, amber eyes. He was vaguely aware of the fingertips touching his face, the red light beaming into the corner of his right eye, before it suddenly brightened.

Kyouya's consciousness wavered.

"But I _can't_ be myself if you're with me."

—

Kyouko's arms shot outward to catch the falling body in front of her, and she instinctively cradled him close. She was _certain_ she was gonna hear about it when he woke up – it was one of the weaker spells she knew (beaming light from her Soul Gem into the eyes of a human to stun their nervous system), and despite the fact that he'd previously showed her resilience and endurance, she was sure that in the time it took him to wake up, she would have already purged the threat.

The question was, what to do with him until then?

She couldn't hide him in the arcade. If someone happened to walk in a find the unconscious body of _Hibari Kyouya_ lying across the floor, there'd be a riot, and she knew it. She couldn't hide him _anywhere_. But she couldn't take him with her either, it was too dangerous. And even if he knew how to fight, he'd still be too dazed and disoriented to properly defend himself, with one tonfa no less.

There was the penthouse…

Kyouko shook her head – Sayaka would probably hover over him while he was lying there on the couch, vulnerable to anything and everything. But then again, she didn't have any other option. Without a second thought, she pushed magic into her bowler shoes, and jumped as high as her untransformed body would allow her, managing to make it to the fire escape at the side of the arcade, and holding out one hand to catch the overhanging bar to swing up onto the roof, holding Kyouya at her side.

_Do you have a death wish? _

Of course she did, knocking him out like she had. But she had no other option. He was human, and vulnerable to magic's effects. And besides, if he saw her in her Magical Girl state, he'd beat the shit out of her, and kick _all_ of them out of Namimori when they were completely and totally innocent. She hopped from roof to roof, gradually picking up speed as she grew accustomed to carrying Kyouya against her right side. She made sure to keep to the shadows as well, lest draw unwanted attention.

As long as no one saw him vulnerable, she was sure he'd forgive her.

Or not.

The trip from the arcade to the penthouse was a short one – Kyouko's all-too-willing magical power was to thank for that – and the instant she opened the door into the lobby, she immediately regretted doing so.

It was _full_, and she didn't have her wish magic to create an illusion. But thankfully, no one seemed to be paying much attention to her, or the body lying limp against her right hip. Using the chance she'd been given, she made a mad dash across the lobby for the elevator, not bothering to check in at the front desk. She didn't have to – _hopefully_ one of the girls were up there, and could take the raven-haired skylark off her hands while she went to deal with Chikusa.

Making it to the fortunately empty elevator, she quickly shut the doors and pushed the buttons, before plopping down on her ass and sprawling the skylark across her thighs in an effort to keep his face from hitting the hard, carpeted floor. She knew it wouldn't be long until she made it to their floor, but Kyouko needed the rest. At least, until a certain voice popped into her head.

_Kyouko, is that you? _

Sayaka.

_Yeah, dumbass, it's me. I need you to do me a favor. _

The elevator slowed, and Kyouko slowly rose to her feet, scooping the boy up onto her back and tucking her arms under his knees, his arms dangling limply over her shoulders. His breath was warm, and gentle against her ear, tickling the upper reaches of her neck as she shifted him into a more secure position. Once the elevator stopped, Kyouko closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and—

"I get it." Kyouko opened her eyes in a flash, and met Sayaka's smiling face. "You want me to look after him, don't you?"

"Just keep an eye on him, okay?" Kyouko said, brushing past her to travel down the hallway into their apartment. Opening the room door, she was buffeted by the scent of sweets and cakes, and something equally delicious. Mami's yellow eyes turned to Kyouko, and immediately fell upon the body on Kyouko's back. "Yeah. This ain't what it looks like."

"I should hope so," Mami pointed out, clapping her hands on a hand-towel and stepping away from the dirty dishes. "Lie him down on the couch. Miki-san, would you get ahold of Kaname-san for me?"

Sayaka nodded, shutting the door behind Kyouko. "I'm on it."

"Mami, I," Kyouko started, turning toward Kyouya's temple, "I need you to look after him so he doesn't get hurt."

"Did he stumble into a Witch's Barrier?" she asked, keeping her voice calm. Kyouko shook her head.

"I used magic on him."

Mami was silent for a moment.

"For what reason?"

Kyouko took a breath. "I think Chikusa's back."

"Meaning, Rokudo Mukuro can't be too far behind," Mami finished for Kyouko. "I see. And you thought that if you left him lying out in the open somewhere or hid him in a dark place, you'd attract too much attention?"

"I didn't want him to see me transform," Kyouko replied. "I need my Soul Gem in order to track Chikusa's movements – he uses a strange magic. Numbing flames or something. But I didn't want Hibari to follow me and get hurt, since he only has one tonfa to fight with."

Mami nodded approvingly.

"I see," she responded. "I agree with your judgment this time. However, if this should—"

"Really, Mami? You're gonna lecture me when one of my childhood enemies is out running around because I couldn't finish him off last night?" Kyouko snapped. Mami's eyes widened, as Kyouko gently slung Kyouya from her back and onto the couch, her fingertips lingering against the side of his face. "I feel really, really bad that I had to do this to him. But he's too reckless."

"Do you want one of us to come along? Like Miki-san, or myself?" Mami asked, just as Sayaka reappeared from the hallway, bringing Madoka with her. The pink-haired girl gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide.

"Is-Is he alright, Kyouko-chan?" Madoka asked, taking a few steps toward Kyouko. The red-haired girl nodded.

"He's fine. Just under a spell," she responded, straightening up. "Take care of him for me."

"You sound attached," Sayaka muttered, before handing Kyouko her onyx ribbon, hair clip, and bobby pins. "You're gonna need these, right?"

Kyouko took them from the blue-haired girl, and tied her hair up skillfully. "Yup. Thanks, partner."

"Just doing my job," she replied, smiling.

With one last glance at the unconscious skylark on the couch, Kyouko turned toward the door, and raised her left hand.

"Well, it's _my_ shot now."

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: Hey everyone, I decided to upload this one early. I'm almost finished with writing, and editing Chapter 7, so hang in there just a little longer. I have to write an Independent Project for Creative Writing, so most of my free time's gonna be devoted to that instead of FanFiction, just as a warning. This story's not all that popular in the first place, so it shouldn't be a problem.

**notes2**: Thank you for your reviews and feedback. Please keep it up? I still own _nothing_.


	7. of suppressed feelings and death wishes

—

**seven. **

—

It didn't take Kyouko long to corner the filthy son of a bitch.

Her Soul Gem – now lying quietly in her palm, still glowing with brooding crimson light, anxiously awaiting the order to transform her – had led her right to his position: An abandoned house at the bottom of Hanabusa Drive, close to the outer outskirts of Namimori. She could go all out there if she wished, for there wasn't a single human in sight, but something didn't feel quite right. It was almost as if Kakimoto Chikusa had _allowed_ her to trap him there.

And that made her feel uneasy.

_Very_ uneasy.

Despite her uneasiness, Kyouko stood tall, facing Chikusa with as strong of a gaze as she could muster. "Filthy bastard, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Sakura Kyouko," Chikusa replied, tone level, voice calm. Kyouko watched the spheres twirl through the darkness within his palms, streaks of azure blue lighting upon their surfaces. Her Soul Gem sparkled in response, pulsing bright red luminescence into the scarlet hair that clung to the sides of her face. "It seems Mukuro-sama was right – Magical Girls and Witches are sensitive to deathperation flames."

Deathperation flames? Was that what that blue fire was called?

"What kinda bullshit are you talkin' 'bout this time?" she demanded, placing on hand on her hip and raising one foot to the edge of the raised rotting debris in front of her. "Deathperation flames? What the hell are those?"

He held out a hand. "These."

Flames burst to life from his right ring finger, burning from his knuckle. Kyouko watched, her amber eyes narrowed, cautious, careful, analyzing every movement the wavering blue heads made. She squinted, looking closely at the fingers the flames brushed, before realizing that they hadn't burned him, even in the slightest. Kyouko's Soul Gem pulsed knocks of scarlet red, each pulse bearing more and more sparks as they rippled over her.

Chikusa managed a small smile. "Mukuro-sama told me that you were the most sensitive to deathperation flames."

"And where'd he get that load of bull from?" Kyouko asked, stomping her foot. The boy in front of her shifted his hat, and raised his spheres, lighting them with beaming azure-sapphire flames. Kyouko tensed, bracing herself. "Damn it."

"These are of the Rain class – it's their nature to tranquilize," he explained, peering down at the flames through his glasses. Kyouko held still, her auburn eyes beginning to tremble. She could feel _something_ coursing through her veins, something that peeled back her will to fight and laid it back down, chilled her to the core. Glancing up at the uncomfortable Magical Girl in front of him, Chikusa said, "numb."

"I knew it," Kyouko murmured, curling her lip up. "I figured as much."

"Mukuro-sama _knew_ you'd be here," Chikusa answered, "once all of the Witches in Mitakihara were gone."

Kyouko flinched.

"And not only that, but he also knows about the fact that you no longer have your wish magic," Chikusa continued. Kyouko's hand tightened around her Soul Gem – she was _moments_ away from materializing and beating the living _shit_ out of the four-eyed bastard, seconds from grabbing him by the collar and shaking some sense into him, but she restrained herself. Something inside her wanted to know why Mukuro was suddenly so interested in her. "He's anxious to meet you, you know."

Kyouko blushed. "Huh? Wh-Where'd _that_ come from?"

"He hasn't seen you in a long time, Sakura Kyouko, and he's wondered how you've been faring since your falling out," he answered, curving his spheres closer to himself. Kyouko's irises fell upon the beaming red light sparking from Chikusa's right eye, and frowned bitterly.

"If he _really_ wanted to know," she started, gathering her Soul Gem back into ring form, "he should've asked me himself instead of sending one of his lapdogs to do his dirty work like a filthy coward. That just shows he doesn't have the balls to meet me face to face, as always."

Chikusa closed his eyes.

"I'm not lying to you, Sakura Kyouko," he said. Kyouko listened to the wind blow her hair forward and backward, struggling to pull her thoughts together into one, fluid, cohesive sentence: _Mukuro still cares about me_.

Black hair flashed across her mind, framing two, twin azure-silver eyes.

"Hibari," she whispered, her heart rising to beat once. She curved her lips upward, and opened her eyes: "You'd kick this guy's ass if you were here, wouldn't you?"

"Huh?"

Biting down on the pocky stick in the corner of her mouth, Kyouko stepped forward and swept her left hand outward, shattering the luminous crimson ellipse of light and dancing through it. Kyouko watched as ribbons of scarlet wrapped around her mid-section, weaving around her torso, brushing across her chest, before the material of her armor bounced against her skin, settling to embrace her body closely, intent on protecting her. The red-haired girl's head tipped backward as her Soul Gem burst into existence at the center of her chest, brightening the air around her. Kyouko spun around once more, holding her right hand out to her side and calling her spear, smirking and sinking into her stance as the shaft of the weapon slid into her palm.

Meeting the girl's gaze, Chikusa's eyes widened with fear. "I'd forgotten how imposing your magical aura can be."

"It's been a long time since you and I went at it, hasn't it?" Kyouko asked, as her long red hair wove into the air behind her. She spun her weapon around her right hand and slapped the shaft into her left hand, before surging forward. "But don't think I'll take it easy on you!"

—

He heard her.

Loud and clear inside his mind. Her voice, it was so much lighter, and gentler, quieter than it normally was, so he'd almost mistaken it for someone else's. But he didn't know anyone else with the same brazen inflection in the lilts and falls of their voice. He'd known the moment it had reached his ears, that it was Sakura Kyouko speaking to him.

But from where? Inside the red sea he was drifting in?

He could almost imagine her grinning at him from where she was, and resisted the urge to smirk back.

"Hey. Could you get up now? You're kinda drooling all over the couch."

Kyouya stirred, sliding his eyes open. He recognized the blue-haired girl hovering over him, but not the pink-haired one drifting close beside her. The scent of Sakura Kyouko flooded over him – he assumed she'd carried him all the way here, to wherever he was – and he lifted himself into a sitting position. At the poke of a pale finger at the corner of his mouth, he glowered at the blue-haired girl, before she offered him a gentle smile.

"You were drooling, Hibari," she said, smiling brighter, "and Madoka here was kinda disturbed by it."

The pink-haired girl beside her blushed. "I was not!"

"You were."

"I wasn't!"

Kyouya narrowed his eyes. "Where am I?"

The Sayaka girl didn't skip a beat. She handed him a tray topped with a tea cup, and rimmed with some cookies, before sitting down on the couch beside his knees, staying close, but far enough away so that he could take in a proper breath of _fresh_ air. The strawberry-haired one, at Sayaka's signal, nodded and headed off into what he assumed to be the kitchen, while Sayaka waited for him to finish his sip of tea.

Once he had finished, she turned to him again. "Kyouko brought you here. She said that you hit your head on a fire escape."

Never before had he _ever_ heard such a blatant lie. "Must've."

"It's the truth," Sayaka confirmed, nodding her head. He wasn't sure if she was really stupid, or just _that_ naïve. She certainly wasn't anything like Sakura Kyouko, looks and appeal aside. "She told me just as she finished lying you down."

"Where is she now?" he asked, biting into a cookie hesitantly. He knew it wasn't like him to bypass important details such as Kyouko's spell and its effects, as well as the fact that he was in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar herbivores. But his head was still spinning, and he couldn't focus on anything other than the tea and cookies in front of him. His skin was tingling, strangely.

"She's out finding medicine for you," she replied smoothly.

Another lie. "Where is she?"

Sayaka's azure eyes fall to her lap, where her fingers slid above, below, in, and out of each other, her teeth beginning to chatter out of nervousness. He watched the blue-haired tomboy swallow, and lift her gaze back to his, her irises taking on a hardened glaze. Kyouya met her gaze with his own, glowering and scowling his irritation, but even at the mercy of his malevolent death aura, Sayaka didn't flinch.

He supposed she was more like Sakura Kyouko then he took her for – except, her aura didn't _excite_ him as much as Kyouko's did.

"I'll tell you," Sayaka said finally, sighing, "after she comes back."

"You _will_ tell me this instant," Kyouya answered, reaching for his lone tonfa. His eyes widened as his hands grasped at nothing. So, they'd stolen _both_ of his tonfas. What was this world coming to? What was _wrong_ with him?

Sakura Kyouko had a _death_ wish.

Sayaka smiled, and twirled his tonfa within the confines of her right hand, her smirk not quite as sly and outright defiant as Kyouko's had been, but every bit as coy and feisty, only in a softer, weaker sort of way. She made him feel oddly calmer. "This thing? Guess Kyouko was right – you _can't_ live without them."

"Do _you_ have a death wish as well, Miki Sayaka?" he asked, narrowing his eyes and igniting his death aura once more. This time, she flinched, and he smirked from under the onyx shadow cloaking his eyes. "Return my tonfas to me, and tell me where Sakura Kyouko is. I cannot go home until I bite the dancing herbivore to death at least one thousand times over."

Sayaka's eyebrow rose. "You're gonna… _bite_ her to death?"

"Yes."

If he'd had his tonfas, he would've slapped the blue-haired girl upside her head for the fit of laughter she'd tumbled into.

Her laughter was genuine, and lighter compared to Kyouko's malicious, carnivorous laugh. "I'd _love_ to see _that_ happen!"

"Are you implying that I am not capable of biting the herbivore to death?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. His glower hadn't faded, even in the slightest. Sayaka cocked her head in response, her smile brightening as a result of her laughter.

"No, nothing like that," she clarified, "I just think that you'd have a hard time catching her first. Kyouko's pretty clever."

He knew that better than anyone. "Her intelligence isn't an issue."

"Well?"

Kyouya sighed. "Tell me where she is, and I will not punish you, herbivore."

"How about you lay back down, sleep a little longer, and then you can ask _her_ where she was yourself?" Sayaka suggested, leaning her face over his as he shifted backwards ever so slightly. She smelled like blueberries and lightly of wildflowers. He could feel her essence sinking into him, calming him from inside out. His eyes began to drift shut. She reminded him of a bright, cloudless sky… "_Jeez_, you're such a good-looking guy."

His last thought as _miki sayaka_ washed his resistance away was something rather profound:

Miki Sayaka had a death wish as well.

—

Kyouko gathered split pieces of her spear around herself as she spun around, smirking callously as she sent the metal head of her spear surging forward through the air. The beam of flames Chikusa fired to protect himself slammed into her weapon, holding it off as he sent his second sphere flying through the air toward her.

"_Hah_," Kyouko laughed, jerking her arm. The ball at the butt of her spear charged through the air toward the other sphere, fending it off as his beam held her spear head at a stalemate. "I can do this _all day long_, Chikusa. Question is, can _you_?"

The glasses-wearing boy gritted his teeth. "_Damn_."

Her spear broke through his raised defense just as her ball shattered his sphere, and shifting her weight, she sent the ball surging forward to wrap around the teenager and jerk him from side to side, before twisting the shaft of the spear to her left. Chikusa's eyes widened, before he smashed into the left wall moments later, falling to the dust and debris with a heavy _thud_. Kyouko's red hair blew out behind her as she smirked behind the drifting sections of her weapon.

"You should know by now that a Magical Girl's body is _special_," she started, lightening her voice and smearing honey onto the top of it. Kyouko's amber eyes found Chikusa's as her spear reconnected just in front of her with a sharp, tell-tale _click_. "We _never_ get tired."

Understanding dawned on his face as she tensed her legs, and rushed forward, going in for the kill. "She's stronger than Mukuro-sama anticipated. This isn't good."

Kyouko held her spear outward, intending to finish the entire battle with a single, high-speed thrust. She didn't even hesitate, knowing that in the instant those blue flames would touch her skin; she'd be rendered immobile, and would be vulnerable to any and all of his attacks. She'd already broken and cut him off from all of his defenses – he could still defend himself, but not as well as he could when he had both spheres. She had this battle all wrapped up, and she knew it.

Her spear tip pierced into his shoulder, and shoved him downward as the heel of her boot pushed against his chest, pressing him backwards toward the ground. Kyouko's malicious grin glowed in the sinister, brooding crimson light of her Soul Gem, and when he back hit the ground, she jabbed the tip of her spear into the ground beside her right foot and held him down with her left. She glowered down at him from over her nose, auburn eyes dark and blazing.

"What does Mukuro want with me?" she demanded, amber eyes narrowed. "And don't think of lying to me. I'll kick your ass over and over again if you do. I'm not kidding. Does this face look like I'm kidding?"

Chikusa closed his eyes against the pain in his chest, from the pain enticed from the boot planted firmly on his rib cage. "He doesn't want anything to do with you, Sakura Kyouko."

"_Bullshit_ he doesn't," she snapped, shoving down on his lung, causing the young man to gasp and cough up blood. "I'm warning you – don't lie to me."

"It's the truth."

Kyouko's fangs sparkled in the dimly lit lights overhead. "Try again, bastard."

"He wants to…" Chikusa's voice trailed off, becoming so soft that Kyouko was forced to lean toward him in order to hear it. The red-haired girl settled herself in his breathing space, and huffed impatiently, but said nothing. Chikusa caught his breath, and whispered, "He wants to acquire a certain _vessel_."

"A _vessel_?" Kyouko echoed, shifting backwards. "But I destroyed his possession bullet years ago – how the hell can he take another body for himself without it?"

Chikusa smiled. "Do you honestly believe we've been sitting on our backsides doing _nothing_ all of these years?"

Kyouko smirked: "Do you _really_ have to ask that question?"

"It's true that you dealt us _considerable_ damage when you threw your little temper tantrum," Chikusa said, shifting underneath Kyouko's weight, raising his face from the dirt floor to hover within _her_ breathing space. Neither backed away. "But we're stronger than you expected. And we had contingency plans in place should we be unable to control you."

Kyouko's amber eyes narrowed.

"And what are those plans?" she asked, her tone quiet. "Taking another body and manipulating it into doing what he wants? And then, throwing it away when he doesn't need it anymore?"

"Exactly," Chikusa replied. "He wants a certain, young, and strong vessel – one that has the power to bring the entire world to its knees."

There was only one thing Kyouko could think of. "You want a Magical Girl, don't you?"

"Maybe we do, maybe we don't," he drawled, earning a narrow-eyed look from Kyouko, and a red mark on the side of his face. Her right hand hovered in midair for a moment, before she lifted herself to her feet, and glowered down at Chikusa.

"You better hope I don't find out, you sick bastard," she spat, releasing her magic. Her denim shorts and sleeveless top reappeared in bursts of crimson light, and Chikusa rose to his feet, picking up the pieces of his weapons. "Because if I do, I swear to _God_ I'll make you pay. You got that?"

There was nothing but the sound of the wind blowing between them for a few heartbeats.

The glasses-wearing man nodded. "Fair enough. However, be certain that you don't entangle yourself too deeply in this situation, Sakura Kyouko."

"And why's that?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm already a part of it – you attacked Namimori, _twice_."

"This is not your territory," he responded, smiling at her. "Let _him_ and _those people_ handle it."

_Him_? _Those people_?

"Who are you talking about?" Kyouko replied, just as Chikusa stepped into the shadows, effectively vanishing from her sight. Kyouko, in a rush of emotions, leaped into the shadows herself, drawing up short the instant her nose collided with the rotting wooden wall. "_Whatthehell_?!"

As she rubbed her nose, she closed her eyes. Who could those people that Chikusa mentioned be? She had her fair share of ideas, but each and every one of them could be ruled out by lack of magical or supernatural affiliation. All she was certain of was that Mukuro was beginning to make his move, the move she'd been dreading for all of the years they'd been apart. She knew was out to possess someone – she'd been his selected vessel back in the day, but after she'd rebelled, he'd left her for dead.

And now, he was back, targeting some other helpless Magical Girl.

Kyouko gritted her teeth, and grinded them against each other.

She needed something to chew on, to bite to death.

—

**shift. **

—

**note**: There was another piece attached to this, but it made it too long. So, I decided to upload the finished part of it, and use the longer piece as the next chapter. So this one's coming a lot faster than I originally intended.

**note2**: Thank you for your feedback. And this is disclaimed, meaning, I don't own anything.


	8. of dabbling in risky business

—

**eight. **

—

"Was the tea alright, Hibari-san?"

Kyouya blinked his eyes open from the cup of tea in his hand, and turned toward the blonde-haired girl sitting in the chair beside the couch. She was fuller, curvier, and bustier than Kyouko – her bright, sunshine yellow eyes were soft, her blonde ringlets sparkled in the lights above their head, and her heart-shaped face was curved into a gentle, reassuring smile, one that tempted the corners of his lips to quirk upward.

He nodded, and handed the empty cup back to her. "Yes."

"That's good," she said, taking the cup and tiny plate from his slender hands, and placing them on the coffee table behind her. "I was concerned about whether or not you liked having sugar in your tea. I didn't think about it before I put some in the tea kettle, I apologize."

What a strange creature. "It's fine."

"Sakura-san should be coming back any moment now," the girl continued, leaning back in her chair. Kyouya closed his eyes – oh, _Sakura-san_ was going to _die_ the _instant_ he got ahold of her. Mark his words. "She called a few seconds ago."

"I didn't hear the phone ring," he answered, turning toward the blonde with one azure eye. "How did she contact you?"

The blonde looked clearly uncomfortable. "I just told you. She called."

"I didn't hear a phone ring," he responded. "And you haven't answered my question, herbivore."

"You know, Hibari, there's such a thing as vibrate," another voice stated from behind the blonde. His eyes flickered toward it – blue hair, blue eyes. Miki Sayaka. She strolled toward him, and swung a phone in front of his face. "This is my cellphone. It'll vibrate when someone calls or texts me. It's less disruptive that way."

He couldn't help but approve of her last comment.

"I see," he relented, settling back down. He didn't miss the glance Sayaka and the blonde exchanged – it was filled with gratitude and relief, and thanks. He knew something fishy was going on, and he could smell it. "How far from here is she?"

"She's at the lobby right now," Sayaka helpfully chirped, waving her vibrating phone in front of his face. "She'll be up in a minute."

A minute could turn into an hour, knowing Kyouko. "I'll wait," he announced. Sayaka lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I _know_ you will," she answered.

He didn't have to wait long.

The door opened moments later, announcing Kyouko's arrival for her. But when she stepped through, Kyouya's irises narrowed, catching the faint death aura and scent of blood on her clothes. It wasn't just on her clothes – when he looked closer, it was woven into her hair, splattered to the side of her face, and her amber eyes were dull, pained, resigned. Just what had she been doing? Kyouya wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know.

Sayaka was no idiot – she noticed Kyouko's condition seconds after Kyouya did, and rushed to the red-haired girl's side, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and guiding her to the couch where Kyouya sat. There was something different about Kyouko's footsteps as well – they staggered from side to side, swayed with the weight of her body, completely without emotion and energy.

Had she been _fighting_?

"Kyouko, I'll get Mami to pour you some tea. Just sit tight with Hibari for a few minutes, okay?" Sayaka said, setting Kyouko down on the chair she'd placed beside Kyouya when he was unconscious. Kyouko sat down and nodded, offering Sayaka a clearly fake smile.

"Sure," she replied – Kyouya felt the underlying tone of despair brush at his senses from the distance between them, and almost scoffed at Kyouko's weakness. But something stopped him – something clearly herbivorous and weak, but not entirely unpleasant. "I'm sorry, Hibari."

He turned to Kyouko in surprise.

She was twiddling her thumbs in her lap – he caught sight of the red ellipse painted onto her left middle finger, frowned at it, before raising his eyes to hers. She faced him earnestly, no traces of a lie in her voice when she spoke next: "I'm really, really, _really_ sorry. But you have to understand why I did it – I can't—"

"Can't _what_?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "I told you that Namimori is none of your concern. I am more than capable of protecting it, and I don't recall ever asking for your assistance. Stay out of business that doesn't apply to you."

"He'll come back, Hibari," she said, lowering her voice. She sounded like she was crying – he glanced downward, and noticed the tears falling to her bare thighs. "He'll come back, and I'll deal with him. It's _my_ job – he's _my_ problem. They _all_ are."

Kyouya narrowed his eyes. "To whom are you referring, herbivore?"

"I can't tell you," she answered, lowering her head, hanging it above her lap. Her tears began falling in greater numbers, but her voice didn't choke or waver. He had to give her credit for keeping her voice smooth and strong, even though she was crying. "But they're dangerous. I don't want you to be anywhere near them – they'll _kill _you."

"Are you suggesting that I am not strong enough to protect myself?" he asked, reaching subconsciously for his tonfas, before remembering that _both_ were not on his person. Kyouko raised her face to him and gave him the softest, most angelic gaze he'd ever seen. Even broken and tear-stained, it was still heart-breakingly _beautiful_. "_Herbivore_."

"_Please_," she whispered, releasing more tears from her eyes. Her hands took his in her own, and held them still. "Promise me that you'll let me deal with these guys. I know what they're up to, and I want to be the one to stop them. I can't let you jump into danger because of me."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you prattling about?" he asked, more insistent this time. She shook her head, and he impulsively reached for her face, holding it still. She blushed at the proximity, and he continued: "And how _dare_ you suggest that I am not capable of eliminating this threat with my own hands."

"I wasn't _suggesting_," she replied, averting her eyes. He didn't understand why she couldn't look at him. Her hands reached up to hold his wrists. "I was _telling_ you that you're not strong enough. They have flames that _numb_ your body when they touch you. One hit from them, and you won't be able to move."

So they _were_ Rain-class deathperation flames.

"I know," he responded, and turned her eyes back to his. She widened her irises at the closeness of his face to hers, and tried to pull back, but he held onto her. "And I've defeated them before. Numerous times."

"Really?" she asked flatly. He nodded.

"Yes."

"So you're suggesting that I should just sit back and let _you_ clean up _my_ mess?" she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. Kyouya frowned.

"I'll punish you as soon I purge this threat," he promised. "Mark my words."

Kyouko fixed him with a raised eyebrow and tilted her head, the movement causing his thumbs to brush at the corners of her eyes, and flick her tears away. Her eyes widened, and her face blushed bright, beaming scarlet, but this time, she didn't move. His lips ached, his tongue _burned_ for the taste of her, but he didn't move either. He _couldn't_ move – they weren't alone anymore.

"Well, Hibari-san, now that Sakura-san has returned, isn't it about time for you to leave?"

Kyouko turned toward the blonde girl standing in the kitchen. "Mami, it's—"

"I'm _sure_ it isn't, _Sakura-san_," Mami interrupted, her tone icily polite. It sounded as if her words were meant to remind Kyouko of something. Kyouya narrowed his eyes as Kyouko lifted his hands from the sides of her face and stood up, holding her hand down to him.

"I'll return your tonfas," she said, facing him sadly. Kyouya stood on his own, and followed her down the hallway, exchanging a suspicious glance with Mami, the blonde in the kitchen. Kyouko, catching him staring at Mami, pulled him down the hallway into her room, and shut the door behind them. "Don't stare at her. You'll only piss her off. She's already angry with me as it is – you'll just make things worse."

Before he could ask her why the blonde was angry with her, Kyouko had already turned around and crossed the room to her mattress.

"You aren't gonna ask me what I did to you, and why?" Kyouya held his silence, and Kyouko glanced back at him, her amber eyes widening. She was honestly surprised – he could see it on her face. "You're better than I thought. I figured you'd be pissed at me or _somethin'_."

"I am," he said, crossing his arms, "_pissed_."

"And?" She was hunched over her mattress, prying it up from the bed and slamming it against the wall with her foot, huffing as she did so. He watched with mild amusement – he'd never seen someone handle a mattress quite like she was, considering how much noise dealing with it the way she was made. She was probably just as reckless as he was, and he liked that. "C'mon, let's have it."

Kyouya merely gazed at her. He didn't know what he wanted out of the two choices he was giving himself: bite her sorry ass to death, or _devour _her until there was nothing left of her. Kyouko lifted an eyebrow, and curved the corner of her lip up.

"It's fine. I can handle anything you dish out, Skylark, so let me have it," she continued. He wasn't entirely sure she would be able to handle him no matter what choice he made. Both were relatively violent in their own way. "Seriously, Skylark, I wanna know your opinion. I'm feeling generous today, so freak the freak out."

The flippancy of her tone was meant to irritate him, of that he was sure. But he couldn't help but take the bait. "Did you stop to think about the consequences of that parlor trick you used on me?"

"No," she replied honestly. "Of course not. But, I did make sure that no one saw you while you were crying over getting your ass kicked."

His eyes narrowed.

"You should thank me," she answered, lifting the tonfas from underneath the mattress and spinning them around in both hands. Behind her, the mattress fell to the bed with a hard, resounding _crash_. "I bore your weight all the way here, despite being hurt myself."

"I don't recall ever harming you, Sakura," he responded. Kyouko flinched, her eyes widening. He raised an eyebrow, and frowned at the slight, small smile on her face.

"Huh. That's the first time you've actually called me by something other than my full name." She crossed her arms, her amber eyes bright. "Could you say it again? Just in case I didn't hear you right?"

"No."

"_Hibari_," she said, raising her voice slightly, practically _singing_ his name, "I wanna hear it. Don't be a pansy-ass."

Her insult slapped him upside the face, made him _desperate_ to prove her wrong. "_Sakura_."

The sound of his voice brought a blush to her face. He watched as she caught her breath, placed her hands on his shoulders, and touched her forehead to his collarbone, her breath billowing over the surface of his heart through his shirt. He tensed at the touch, stiffening underneath her weight like a frightened animal, and he cursed himself for his overreaction. But he didn't move, didn't want to move. Having her aura so close to him soothed the roiling nerves in his body, feeling her body, supple and ripe against his was—

"Huh." He blinked, glanced down at her, watched the tufts of hair at the crest of her ponytail bounce at the top of her head as she laughed. "You'd think I'd know the sound of my own name."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, stepping back. The sound of his foot hitting the door stopped him from moving further. He had to give her credit for trapping him.

"I don't know," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. He felt something wrap around him, something warm, and gentle, and nice? His mind reeled, struggled to pull himself back from wherever _hibari kyouya_ was hiding, to return him to normalcy. The softness of her palms pressed against his shoulders – she had her arms wrapped around him. He couldn't move.

He was _caught_.

"Let go of me," he demanded, not wanting to use force on a defenseless girl, but reconsidering once he remembered who it was he was dealing with. "Let go of me or I'll sever your arms from your body."

"Just a little longer," she whispered, and he started at the sound. Her voice was… breaking. He closed his eyes, and exhaled calmly. "Hibari."

"Hn?"

"Do you hate me?"

It was a stupid question, and not like her at all. "What is this about, Sakura Kyouko?"

"Nothing." Her arms disappeared from his person, her hands planted on her hips now, her auburn eyes glistening with something that looked like water, or rain, or tears. He didn't know, and he almost didn't care. She handed him his tonfas a moment later. "Nothing at all. Anyway, we gonna dance again anytime soon?"

"No." He turned around, reaching for the door. He had his tonfas, and he had no other reason to stick around. But he didn't know the reason why he didn't shake her hand from his. He turned one cobalt eye to her amber ones, and said, "What do you want?"

Her face was close to his, her breathing space melding with his, her scarlet bangs barely grazing his. Her lips were as close to his as they were before; he could smell her scent of cherries, summer, and _pocky_ (he wrinkled his nose at the note of chocolate in the air), and inhaled, breathing in the undertone of bloodlust along with it. A hand was gripping his collar before he could blink, and her eyes began to shut, drift closed, and her mouth was growing _intoxicatingly_ close.

But she stopped just short of touching him, using their proximity to murmur, "What do _you_ think?"

It took him a few moments to register the fact that she was answering his previous question – _"What do you want?"_ – and a few more to restrain himself from taking advantage of how close they were. As to how he was going to take advantage of it, he wasn't sure. But he couldn't deny that the feel of her in his breathing space _excited_ him. His lips curved up, and raising one of his tonfas, he settled it at the center of her chest, holding it steady, but warning her with a gentle (well, as _gentle_ as _hibari kyouya_ could get) shove that he wasn't about to let her dominate him again.

Again?

She curved her lips up in response. "I'm not backing down here, Hibari. Just saying that out."

"It seems we're both about to be disappointed then," he replied, smirking back, "because I won't release you until you release me."

"What if I like holding you here?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Just to watch you squirm?" she added, licking her lips.

His irises flashed in disgust. "I don't _squirm_."

"Doesn't look like it," she replied, glancing down at his tonfa. "You can't handle someone in your personal bubble space, can you?"

"Don't say something I'll make you regret," he warned.

"But you like having _me_ in your bubble space, don't you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows innocently. He shoved at her with his tonfa, but she didn't budge. "I noticed it when I held you earlier: you don't like to be restrained."

A whirlwind of emotions rolled through him, taking his better judgment along with them.

"_I'll bite you to death_."

Her fangs hovered a mere millimeter from touching his mouth. "I dare you, _Skylark_."

But before he could reach up and grab her and pull her the rest of the way, the door trembled at his back, and he turned one eye to it.

"Sakura-san, Hibari-san, it's Mami." Kyouko stiffened, and jumped away from him in a hurry. He was half-tempted to reach out and take hold of her, give her a piece of his mind, but his tonfa slipped from its place against her chest, and fell to his side, as he stepped from the door, allowing it to open. The blonde appeared moments later, scanning them for what he assumed absurd reasons, before adding, "it's almost time for dinner."

The thought of staying and crowding with Sakura Kyouko's flock of herbivores made his stomach quake. "I'm leaving."

"I'll walk you out," Kyouko blurted, jumping after him. She stopped when Mami reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Kyouya glanced back at her out of the corner of his eye, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "Mami, let go."

"I need you to help me make dinner, Sakura-san," she said, her voice sugary-sweet. He narrowed his eyes, but continued down the hallway, meeting the gaze of Miki Sayaka, who tilted her head and smiled.

"It was nice to meet you, Hibari," she said. He didn't say anything, just glowered. The pink-haired girl next to her flinched, and stepped out of the way of the door, clearing a path for him to pass through.

The moment he shut the door behind him, he didn't look back.

—

"Mami, _nothing_ happened." Kyouko slapped the pizza dough onto the palm of her hand, and punched it with her fist. "Stop asking."

It was the truth.

_Nothing_ happened.

Kyouko couldn't help but slump her shoulders in disappointment. She had been hoping he'd make a move on the chance she'd given him – she was still shocked that she didn't make the move for him, considering how _badly_ she'd wanted to seal the deal then and there – she'd been certain he'd kiss her senseless, bite her until she bled, _something_, but instead was met with a resistant and unyielding raven-haired skylark that continued to pull her further and further into his palms.

She wanted him, she knew that for sure.

As to the fact of whether or not he wanted _her_, she'd need to experiment a little more first. And she knew exactly what his pet peeve was too, thanks to her endeavors earlier:

Proximity.

_Touch_.

_Anything_ that made him feel trapped, cornered, restrained like a caged bird. She knew it'd be difficult to keep her cool if she ended up drawing him into one of her traps again. He was every bit as intoxicating to her as she was sure she was to him, considering his reactions to some of her, _sensual_ _exploits_. She'd even sensed bloodlust in the air around him, and knew at the very least that he wanted to _fight_ her, to _dominate_ her on the battlefield. And now that he had his tonfas back, that was possible.

"But it certainly didn't look like it when you offered to walk him to the lobby," Mami replied. "You were blushing, your entire body was shaking, and I could see it in your eyes."

"See _what_ in my eyes?" Kyouko asked, playing dumb. Mami took the pizza dough from the countertop and spread a layer of sauce on the top of it with a knife. "Mami, what?"

"Lust." Kyouko blinked once. Twice. Three times. Thought once about slapping the dumbass blonde, and then herself afterwards, but decided on staying quiet for a moment. "It looked like you had fallen for him, Sakura-san."

"That ain't what lust means," Kyouko muttered. "It means I wanna—"

"Please refrain from using vulgar, perverse language in the presence of Madoka," Homura interrupted from the couch. Kyouko closed her eyes, and slapped her palm into her face. Homura's obsession with Madoka was borderline _crazy_, at least to Kyouko. "However, if you are lusting after this person, I would be cautious. Remember what happened last time, with Rokudo Mukuro."

"But I wasn't _lusting_ for him!" Kyouko protested. Mami and Homura exchanged a glance. Kyouko sighed, and waved her palms. "Look, I wasn't lusting for Mukuro, and I'm _not_ lusting for _Hibari_ either, so shut up."

It was then that Sayaka decided to add her piece. "But you like him, don't you?"

"_No_!" Kyouko exclaimed, realizing too late that she'd spoken too quickly. Mami sighed.

"In any case, Rokudo Mukuro is a good example of why Magical Girls _can't_ fall in love with humans," she said. "Remember what he did to you, Sakura-san. Do you want that to happen to you again?"

Kyouko's left hand tensed at her side, and her fangs bit into her bottom lip, drawing blood. She didn't want anything like what that son of bitch did to her happen again, but she couldn't help but think that someone like Hibari would be different. He didn't seem like the type to use and abuse her. Maybe for a good sparring match, but not for a relationship. Regardless, the answer was _no_.

"No," Kyouko replied, hiding her eyes behind her crimson hair, "but even if I don't, I can't see the future."

"Sakura-san," Mami started, putting a hand on the red-haired girl's shoulder. Kyouko peeled it off her skin with a shake of her shoulder and a touch of her hand.

"However," she continued, "I have a hunch that Mukuro's gonna show his face around here real soon."

"So it _was_ Chikusa," Mami mused. Kyouko nodded, lifting her left hand and gazing at the silver band wrapped around her finger, the ellipse symbol painted onto her fingernail, her Soul Gem. "Did you beat him?"

"Yeah." Kyouko went back to work on the pizza. "He told me Mukuro's out looking for another vessel since he couldn't tame me. He said something about someone being able to bring the world to its knees or some bullshit like that. I dunno, it sounded nuts to me, since I made sure that I destroyed his possession bullet before I left him."

Kyouko was certain that he didn't have the power to possess anyone else, that she was the last one he'd ever try to take under his control. The memory of holding the blue-haired boy underneath her weight flashed to the forefront of her mind, and her right hand clenched at her side as the sound of his laughter filled her ears, echoed and boomed inside her skull. She remembered every detail of that night, of the night she'd held him at spearpoint and straddled him to the floor underneath her, sacrificing her wish magic in the process.

He'd broken her that night, left her vulnerable without her wish magic to protect her. Kyouko smiled bitterly, knowing that someday soon, they'd cross paths again, and she'd be forced to fight him once more, stop him from taking whomever else he deemed _suitable_ to his expectations. She wasn't going to let him hurt anyone else the same way he'd hurt her, the same way he'd crippled and stripped her of her pride and her heart. She was only _half_ the woman now than she had been before she met him, and it sickened her to think that he'd affected her so deeply.

But Hibari… _Hibari_ was different.

Kyouko opened her eyes. "But maybe he's figured out another way to do it. I thought I'd stopped him, but apparently not."

"You _did_ stop him, Kyouko-chan," Madoka said, coming up behind the red-haired girl. "You stopped him from possessing you, and me. Had you not of stopped him, I'd be a puppet right now."

Homura bristled from the couch. "Over my dead body."

"To put it in simple terms, he's _everyone's_ enemy," Sayaka put in, raising her left hand. Kyouko watched the light from her Soul Gem sparkle in response to Sayaka's. "And next time you fight him, you won't be alone."

"But he's my problem," Kyouko said. "Hibari already tried to get me to—"

Everyone was leaping from where they sat or stood.

"You told _Hibari_?!" Kyouko sighed.

"No, I told him that someone attacked Namimori last night, and today, and he wanted to know who it was. I didn't tell him anything about Mukuro though, or Chikusa," Kyouko replied. Everyone visibly relaxed, but didn't lower their guards. Mami turned to face Kyouko directly, and fixed her with a stern expression.

"We will have to investigate," she said. "If Chikusa's here, then Mukuro cannot be too far behind."

Kyouko closed her eyes, and _listened_ to their noise:

"Let's patrol tomorrow."

"Nah, that won't help. We need to hit them where it hurts, like, you know, as Kyouko likes to say, _blow their shit up_."

"We cannot afford to act rashly. And I am also not willing to waste my firearms for a reason as ridiculous as that."

"But, Homura-chan, maybe we _should_ go on the attack."

"That's the spirit, Madoka!"

"Well, if you want to, Madoka, I don't mind."

Kyouko sighed, and started for the hallway. "I'm gonna have a shower."

"Are you alright?" Mami asked, turning to follow Kyouko. "Do you need some tea, or a cookie?"

"Tea would be fine," Kyouko said. "I'll have it when I come out."

Once Kyouko was cloaked by the darkness of the hallway, she slammed her fist against the wall, and gritted her teeth.

"_Shit_."

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: This is the second piece I mentioned in Chapter Seven. I added a lot onto it though, and that's why it took me so long. Next chapter, we're going back to school, so Hibari should be in character there. And Kyouko should be in character there too, if I make her appear...

**notes2**: Thank you for your feedback thus far, and I would like to remind everyone that I own _nothing_.


	9. of code breaking

—

**nine. **

—

"Dear God, _please_ tell me that I'm dreaming."

Sakura Kyouko couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe the _stupidity_ that was Tomoe Mami's plan. It was as if all of the expensive hair gels that Mami used to keep her ringlets perfectly straight at the sides of her head had _finally_ drowned her brain cells and washed them all away. It was as if she'd neglected to remember the fact that not once in her life had Sakura Kyouko seriously gone to school, and stayed there just long enough to grumble to herself—_"Screw this, I'm out. Peace."_—and promptly walk away afterwards.

And second of all, why the _hell_ was _she_ the only one going, dressed in a seifuku all alone?

Damn it all. Just damn it all to hell. She couldn't possibly show herself to anyone dressed like this—it was such a downgrade from her usual outfits, you know, the ones that looked remotely _normal_ in comparison to this clumpy hippy-shit for material—Kyouko snorted, and crossed her arms over her chest, her amber eyes narrowed to darkened, shadowed slits. She knew she was overreacting—it's not like part of who she is was _stripped _from her or anything—she knew there was a giant possibility that she wouldn't even be able to stomach sitting in those plastic chairs, standing on those plastic floors, surrounded by those plastic kids.

She didn't have the mind for public education, nor the sanity.

Kyouko's teeth chomped down on her pocky stick, and subconsciously, her right hand reached into her pocket to pull out another. They were like her own personal brand of cigarette. Only hers were harmless to the body, but numbing to the soul. As long as she had pocky on her person, she could accomplish anything, be it fighting Witches, kicking Sayaka's ass, going toe-to-toe with Homura, doing chores, completing homework, whatever. She was unstoppable when she had pocky in her mouth.

It was a comforting thing, knowing that if she was about to lose her mind and _destroy_ something, she had something resembling an alarm to warn her to calm down—a safeguard, a wall, a barrier between her heart and the rest of the world. Or rather, a _limit line_ built to restrain her fiery temper. Once her pocky snapped in half, she knew she was bordering on losing it, and thus needed to find something to calm her down, which was typically another stick of chocolate-covered biscuit.

Sighing around the rod placed delicately between two moist, glossy cherry-colored lips, Kyouko raised her gaze to the school towering above and around her, and placed her hands on her hips, the hem of her red-white plaid skirt billowing about her legs, pleading for her fingertips to smooth it down, lest her underwear be revealed to the minuscule amount of life currently present at the front gates.

"Might as well get this over with," Kyouko snorted, taking a few steps forward, taking the end of her pocky stick in between her fingers and rolling it across her nail, keeping her hands occupied. "One day's not gonna kill me, but it'll damn well come close."

As she walked through the gate, she tightened her grip on her hipster bag, flinching at the feminine design of the fuchsia paisley-plaid print of it_—"Sakura Kyouko, so help me God, I __**will**__ make you a woman."_—before stopping dead in her tracks at the sound of wings beating close to her ear. At first she thought it to be a bee, and swung her arm at it, but when the _bee_ opened its mouth and sang—

_Midori tanabiku, namimori no. Dai naku shou naku nami ga ii_—

—Kyouko promptly blushed, and swung around to face it, her face brightening into a beaming smile, "Hey, I know you!"

And apparently the bird remembered her as well. He chirped as he circled her head happily, before beating his wings and settling at the crest of Kyouko's bangs. He shifted restlessly, messing up her neat ponytail as he moved at the crown of her skull, twisting and turning his head to gaze all around them at his vantage point cloaked in scarlet. Kyouko put a lazy hand on her hip, and shifted her stance, glancing up at the bird from under her crimson bangs, and huffed.

"I get that you're scared, but that doesn't give you the right to mess up my hair. I worked hard to get all of the flyways into it," Kyouko said, sighing once. Her bangs bounced against her forehead as she dropped her face slightly. "But, whatever. I've gotta find the main office in the first place. Do you have a clue in hell where that is?"

"I can help, Sakura-san."

Kyouko smiled half-heartedly at the familiar voice, before turning around to face the panting brunet Sawada Tsunayoshi. He was out of breath, his tie was loose at his neck, and his collar flopped every which way in the sudden breeze, blowing his bangs across his warm, earnest amber eyes. Her scarlet tresses flowed through the wind, weaving into the dancing cherry blossom petals shimmering from the trees around them, before curving her lips in a smirk.

"So, you're late then, huh?" Kyouko asked, glancing at his shoes. They were messily tied, unkempt in appearance, slightly muddy even. She wondered if he'd jumped into a puddle on his way to school, and how he'd managed to escape with only soggy-looking shoes rather than the whole soaking wet gambit. "Ain't Hibari gonna come around anytime soon? You know, to round you up?"

"He's too busy to care much about me being late," Tsunayoshi replied, taking a few steps toward her. His eyes flickered across the expanse of her face, clearly hesitant, timid, and wary. Kyouko knew that look well—it was the same one she had given Mukuro when she'd first met him, before he'd smashed her pride under his boot and walked away. "Besides, it's a regular thing for me to be late. I guess he just gave up on disciplining me."

"What? Detention doesn't suit his preferences or somethin'?" she laughed, her eyes blazing in amusement. Giving up didn't seem to be in Kyouya's category, at least in her opinion. He was possibly as fiery as she was. "Damn, he's a piece of work."

"Hibari-san is Hibari-san," Tsunayoshi answered, his brown eyes meeting hers honestly. Kyouko fell silent at the steady glare he was giving her, fixing her with something that brought her cautious side out from where she'd stuffed it last, kept her in check, just like squaring off. It didn't occur to her until his irises narrowed that he was analyzing her as well, taking in her appearance, determining whether or not she was a threat. "Nothing more, and nothing less."

Kyouko smirked: "Real fucking profound."

"You swear just as much as Gokudera-kun," he muttered, stepping forward. She watched him come closer, his eyes softening—Kyouko's hands relaxed at her sides, her pocky stick returned to the corner of her mouth, where it belonged—and before she realized it, he was standing in front of her, gesturing to the school with his chin. "If you've just transferred here, you need to check in at the office. Do you want me to show you the way?"

She tapped the toe of her brown boot on the pavement, thought once about busting into one of her elegant dance moves to ease the tenseness in her legs, before turning her head back to him, and grinning: "That'd be great, thanks."

—

"Kyou-san, we have a new student joining us," Kusakabe Tetsuya—Hibari Kyouya's second-in-command for all intents and purposes—said, handing the black-haired head prefect the transcripts. Kyouya merely set them down on the desktop, casting a practiced eye across the manila folder's front, touching his fingers to the photo secured to the top of the folder with a cherry blossom-shaped bobby pin. "I think you might know her, considering that you've been meeting someone with the same name."

"Sakura Kyouko," he grumbled, laying the side of his face in his palm, gazing down at the sunny smile the red-haired girl wore in the picture pinned to the folder's edge. He wasn't sure what this was supposed to be, but he was going to get to the bottom of it. "The principal didn't inform me of such an arrangement."

"She just transferred over the weekend while you were out patrolling," Tetsuya answered, sitting down on the sofa. "Apparently, she's living with a group of friends that moved all the way here together from Mitakihara."

Sounded about right.

"Is that all?" he asked, rising from his chair to cross the room to the coffee-maker.

He needed caffeine, something to calm his roiling nerves—damn that flame-haired wench. He could hear rapid footsteps echoing down the hallway, reached for his tonfas just in case he needed to bite someone, but just as quickly as he'd sensed them, they vanished. It had to be some later-riser just arriving to class. He'd discipline them soon enough, _after_ he drank his coffee.

"That's all the information she and the principal are willing to give us, Kyou-san," Tetsuya said, averting his eyes from Kyouya's, perhaps for good reason.

He wasn't certain he'd be able to control himself if he learned anything else about her—his mind wandered to more sensual questions, to her more sensual characteristics, to images of him holding her, biting her, kissing her senseless, sinking his teeth into the skin of her neck hard enough to draw blood. His tongue licked his lips, his blue eyes brightening at the thought of tasting her blood, feeling the beating pulse tap against his lips, hearing her scream, _take me, i'm alive. _

"Kyou-san?" Kyouya snapped out of his thoughts in a hurry, and sighed, turning to the coffee-maker. Tetsuya blinked, and tilted his head, adding, "Do you know her?"

He forced himself to keep moving, to not stop and sigh for the _hundredth_ time that morning. "_No_."

"Aw, don't play it like that." His eyes widened at the familiar tone of voice, before promptly narrowing into their characteristic azure slits. He turned toward the door, and fingered for his tonfas.

She was leaning up against the doorframe—one brown boot pushed up to hold her where she was, her long red hair tied up in her black ribbon, her bangs pinned back by duplicates of the cherry blossom-shaped bobby pin secured to the folder on his desk—with her arms crossed, lips unbearably wet and tempting, a pocky stick hanging out of the side of her mouth. Her posture was oddly relaxed, comfortable even despite the fact that he was certain that she knew she wasn't welcome in his office. But regardless of the death aura his body was spitting out of his pores, she kicked the doorframe opposite her, and rolled her head to him.

"I know you know who I am, isn't that right, _Hi-ba-ri_?" Kyouko asked, enunciating each of the syllables of Kyouya's name teasingly. The sound of Kyouko's voice rising like that sent shivers up and down Kyouya's spine, and he averted his gaze, snorting to the air between them in annoyance. Kyouko smirked, baring her fangs. "Oh relax, _school boy_. I'm just screwing with you."

Screwing? "Sakura Kyouko."

"Yes, _goshujin-sama_?" she teased, putting her hands on her knees and leaning forward, her auburn eyes bright and brimming with mirth and mischief.

At her words, Tetsuya's eyes flew open, wider than any normal human's Kyouya had seen. Kyouya's irises widened just a fraction—his heart pulsed once, his hands twitched at his sides, his teeth _screamed_ for the sliver of skin just beneath her jawbone—before he pulled out his tonfas and raised them in front of him. She merely quirked the corner of her lip up in response, her auburn eyes narrowing slightly.

"I'm starting to think that you want me to keep them, you know?" Kyouko said, tilting her head to the side. He took an impulsive step forward, and another, and another, heedless of her defenselessness and Tetsuya's voice pleading for him to calm down. He couldn't think of anything else but this:

He wanted his goddamn fire back.

She lifted herself up straight, her ponytail swaying against her back, "Huh. You're pretty steamed, aren't you? Well, I guess there ain't anything for it but to get it out. C'mon, let's have it."

"Further conversation is pointless," he pointed out, holding a single flaming tonfa across his body. That enticed a reaction out of her—her eyes widened, fear flashed across those amber irises of hers, struck her upside the face as he continued toward her. Kyouya watched as she took a reflexive step back, his lip curving upward. "I'll bite you to death, filthy herbivore."

"It's _those_ flames," she breathed, her eyes trembling. "But they're _purple_ this time."

Kyouya held his silence, merely continuing toward the cornered red-haired female.

Something seemed to spike inside her, her lips pulled back from her teeth, revealing a pair of bright, white fangs. "What the hell is this?"

"You've seen them before?" Tetsuya asked, jumping toward Kyouko. Kyouya forced himself to stop, to recognize the human shield Tetsuya just gave the flame-haired wretch, lowering his flaming tonfas to his sides and allowing the fire to burn out. "Kyou-san, she might—"

"Get out of my way." Tetsuya blinked, and Kyouko slammed her teeth together. "That is my prey, and unless you want me to bite you to death as well, I'd suggest you _move_."

Tetsuya, dumbfounded that Kyouya would allude to the fact he wanted to bite his second in command to death as well as Sakura Kyouko, blinked and stayed still out of shock alone, sputtering as Kyouya raised his tonfas again and continued forward. Kyouko, seeing the malevolent glint in Kyouya's eyes, took Tetsuya by the shoulder and shoved him back behind her, facing Kyouya with a narrowed, drawn expression.

Even at the sight of her death aura, he didn't stop. The desire to taste her was thrumming through him, palpable in his veins, on his tongue, potent in the clenched grip of his hands on his tonfas. The violet Cloud flames wavered back and forth, responding to his will and strengthening, the bracelet on his left wrist making its presence known with a spark of purple light. Vongola Gear—he wouldn't finish her off with that, it was a waste. And besides, Tetsuya already looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

Kyouko shifted into a stance that pricked his memory, one that brought chills coursing down his spine. One that reminded him of things he'd wished could be forgotten, events that had scarred him to the point of no return. Her stance reminded him of Rokudo Mukuro—irises quirked into sly, confident ovals, lips cocked into a haughty line, the sound of malicious laughter echoing on the air between them—and it only made him angrier.

He charged for her, flinging his flaming tonfas forward, hissing to himself when she dodged them with quick, and precise ducks and back-steps. He ignored the frightened Tetsuya's pleas for him to stop, for him to stop attacking—his anger, his hatred boiled to the surface, everything about her screamed _Rokudo Mukuro_—and only continued, halting just in front of the toes Kyouko flung up at him as she flipped back onto her hands, barely dodging the boot that grazed the underside of his jaw.

"Kyou-san, stop, she's not a threat!" Tetsuya exclaimed, ducking behind the couch to avoid the twists and flips of Kyouko's slender and elegant body as she dodged. "Calm down!"

"He ain't gonna stop if you keep yelling at him!" Kyouko shot back, kicking her right foot forward as she slid down onto her butt and evaded one of Kyouya's fiercer swipes at her head. "Something's set him off—he's coming at me like he wants to kill me!"

To prove her right, Kyouya kicked at her with the side of his shoe, landing a blow on the side of her face and earning himself a second to overtake her, but her brown eyes flashed, seeing his move coming. She rose up onto her knee, and flung her fist forward, flipping his head upward as her clenched hand hit the underside of his jaw. From there, she tilted onto her right foot and kicked him in the stomach with her left, sending him sliding backwards a couple feet.

Even though she'd put distance between them, he _still_ wasn't deterred.

He surged forward again, and she blinked.

To Kyouya's surprise, she didn't move to dodge his attack this time. She smiled, ducked underneath it, flinging her arms around him and tackled him to the floor, holding him down with her legs pinned on both sides of his waist, straddling him. Her palms slammed his wrists to the floor, holding his tonfas still, and she clamped her legs against his hips, tightening her hold on him. He was trapped, caught.

She'd restrained him once more, defeated him with hardly any effort.

_Again_.

Though he lay still beneath her, she didn't relax her grip on him. She was panting, he was breathing heavily, and the flames burning from his tonfas didn't fade. Memories of Rokudo Mukuro flooded his mind, and he thrashed, realizing the severity of his situation, that he'd been beaten _again_. Kyouko shifted along with his kicks and pushes, refusing to give him any means to free himself and attack her again, the iciness of her glower contrasting the burning ferocity of his own, meeting his stride for stride as he struggled.

"You aren't getting free, Hibari," she said, her voice low, soft, gentle even. "Not until you tell me what scared you."

Was she suggesting that he had attacked her simply because he was _afraid_? "You will release me this _instant_, herbivore."

"_Tell me_," she replied, forcefully this time. "You owe me that much, considering the fact that I could've chopped your balls off had I been in the mood."

"Threats of castration won't be enough to sway me," he answered, pulling at his tonfas. Her fingers tightened around his wrists in response. "Let go of me, herbivore—"

Something brushed against his right cheek.

"Pansy-ass."

His eyes widened: "Hn?"

She was smiling down at him—shorter bundles of thick scarlet hair slipped over her shoulders from her messy ponytail as she gazed down at him, her shirt sat unbuttoned against her chest, her soft, gentle smile bruising as he looked up at her—her softness and fragility smoldering in the depths of her eyes. He'd never seen her so gentle, tender, and _affectionate_ before, and if he were to be honest with himself, it surprised him. Kyouko shifted her hand against his cheek, her fingertips delicate on the side of his face.

Tetsuya peeked over the back of the couch, his eyes widening at the scene in front of him. But Kyouko didn't release Kyouya, even though they weren't alone on their side of the room anymore. She merely brushed his black hair from his eyes, touched her fingertips to his forehead and pressed her palm to the scratches there. He knew he should've been annoyed, fought back, something, but the feel of her was _soothing_.

Was this what it felt like to be touched by a woman?

"Have you calmed down now?" It was a simple, quiet question, spoken in a soft, soft, soft voice that allured him to the core. His eyes fell shut, and his breathing slowed, his limbs relaxing at the breathy, airy tone of her voice. "Hibari Kyouya?"

Oh, hell, the sound of his name on her lips was _heavenly_.

"Well?" she asked, leaning closer. He'd normally have freed himself by this time, and he knew it, but he couldn't move. His entire body was lulled to sleep, even while his mind was still awake. He was completely pacified, and he didn't understand it. Her other hand took his other cheek, effectively cupping his face between both hands: "Now, tell me. What about me scared you?"

He _thought_ she didn't have the capacity to be this gentle, this coaxing, this… _arousing_. "Nothing about you scares me."

"Then…?"

"I attacked you simply because you were cluttering my office with your presence," he replied, gazing up at her. Her brown eyes were honey-colored in the light, her red hair scarlet, her hands strawberry-hued and warm. He had to escape. "And now you're crowding."

"I crowd all the time, Skylark, get used to it," she quipped, pulling a pocky stick out of her pocket and stuffing it into the corner of her mouth unceremoniously. She released him seconds later, and held a hand down to him. "Want some help?"

"I am perfectly capable of standing up on my own."

She bit the side of her mouth and hissed. "Damn, you're stubborn. You might be worse than me in that department."

Pushing her foot underneath his tonfas, she kicked them up into the air and skillfully caught them in both hands, before handing them back to him once he got to his feet. Her palm lingered under his for a few moments too long—according to his judgment—and was tempted to lash out at her, when she suddenly spun around and hopped out the door, shouting something about being late to class, which automatically set him on another, milder rampage.

She turned around, and laughed from over her shoulder, "Catch me if you can, _Skylark_!"

—

So, in the end, he _did _catch her.

He hadn't hesitated to rummage into her pockets—his fingertips had just barely grazed _that_ area in the process, leading her to squeal, and practically _slap_ him in the face—and retrieve her crumpled schedule. Once he'd figured out which class she was supposed to be in, he had grabbed her by the arm and hauled her down the hallway, throwing her into the classroom onto her ass and slamming the door shut afterwards, leaving Kyouko to explain herself.

She'd been lucky though. Sawada Tsunayoshi was in the same class, and had gestured to the dazed red-haired girl in her moment of embarrassment on the floor—thanks to the fucking irritating but sexy-as-hell _Hibari Kyouya_—grabbing her gently by the shoulder and helping her to her feet, and leading her to the back of the room where he sat. The teacher had collected her late pass, frowned at the clumsy scrawl, before tossing it into the trash and continuing with class.

She was now peering out the window, oblivious to the teacher's lecture bleating into her right ear, and rather attentively focusing on the cherry blossom petals drifting past the window sill. She wondered if Sayaka, Mami, Madoka, or Homura would want to go and look at the flowers after they finished their separate missions, though it still pissed her off that she was the only one going to school out of the five of them. Her phone vibrated in her hipster bag in the cradle under the seat, vibrating her entire chair in the process.

Dumbasses.

_Yeah, yeah, guys, whattya want? I'm in the middle of History, make it snappy, 'kay? _

Kyouko's telepathic message received no response for a few moments, giving her time to peer out the window again, and smile down at the flowering trees. Her sister Momo had enjoyed playing under the blooming blossoms back at their church before the incident, before Rokudo Mukuro, before Hibari Kyouya… Kyouko shook her head, closing her eyes shut tightly as she waited for one of her dumbass friends to respond to her telepathy.

_We've got a lead. Hanabusa Drive. _

Kyouko rolled her eyes.

_I fought Chikusa on Hanabusa Drive the other day. And who the hell is this? _

"Sakura-san?" Kyouko blinked, and turned to face forward, locking eyes with Sawada Tsunayoshi in the process. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired," she replied, yawning into her palm for effect. She couldn't have anyone know what she was up to. Well, it wouldn't matter anyway, because unless she directed her thoughts to them, they wouldn't hear her silent conversation with her friends. But it didn't hurt to be cautious. "Like, legit _tired_."

It _was_ the truth. Kyouya had kicked her ass around in terms of forcing her to fall back on cheerleader-esque methods of evasion. She wasn't lying. But she knew that Tsunayoshi wouldn't know what happened in Kyouya's office before she'd been dumped into the classroom on her backside by said prefect. She didn't want anyone to know—she was sick of losing, of getting her ass beat into the dirt over and over again.

She wanted her goddamn fire back.

_It's Homura. I am the only one free to patrol at the moment. But it's the truth, there's a lead on Hanabusa Drive. _

_And what is that? _

Homura seemed to sigh into Kyouko's mind before replying: _A seashell. _

Kyouko almost fell out of her chair: _A __**fucking**__ seashell?! Are you __**shitting**__ me?!_

"For the love of God, why can't things be simple anymore?" Kyouko muttered to herself, laying the side of her face into her palm as she glanced out the window again. And when she did, she caught sight of Hibari Kyouya, leaving school grounds. But what caught her attention was the shadow he was chasing, and the sparks of blue-purple it was carrying.

_I gotcha. _

_What do you 'got', Kyouko? _

Kyouko rose from her chair, gathering her hipster bag from her seat and raising her hand. "S'cuse me, Teach? I'm not feeling too well, could I go to the nurse or somethin'?"

The teacher looked appalled by Kyouko's tone, and when the red-haired girl burst into a fierce coughing fit (thanks to discreetly summoning her Soul Gem and applying the slightest bit of pressure to the colored gem in the middle), she hurried the crimson Magical Girl out of the room without a word of protest. Leaving Kyouko to find her own way, the teacher slammed the door shut behind her and returned to class, allowing Kyouko the unsupervised hallway to use for her escape.

And use it she did.

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: So, this one came fast too. I have a place where I really, really want to go at the moment, so please bear with me in terms of _this_... chapter. If everyone is too OOC, I will edit and fix it. I have another, milder, tamer idea for this chapter, so if this doesn't work, I will use that instead. I just wanted to write Badass!Hibari.

**notes2**: I still don't own anything, 'kay?


	10. of game changes and kisses in the rain

—

**ten. **

—

Hibari Kyouya had _never_ enjoyed playing _tag_.

He'd always considered it to be the most herbivorous game known to man since _hide and seek_, only slightly more violent, which suited his tastes and preferences in terms of entertainment. It was only rivaled—in terms of dislike—by those noisy electronic games that herbivores like Gokudera Hayato and perhaps Sakura Kyouko would play in the hallways of the school instead of being respectfully quiet and following the rules. In terms of methods of disobedience—games of any type aside from the ones involving blood, biting, and victory—they _all_ had his respect.

How could they _not_, when they provided him with a perfect excuse to vent his frustration into every single yielding body he came across?

And so, for the first time in a long, long, long time, Hibari Kyouya willingly went along with this herbivore's game, and chased him all over Namimori until the shadowed bastard lead him to the shrine on the other side of town. Kyouya had no qualms about the chosen location—remote, quiet, out of sight from the rest of the populace—and though he was much, much, much too far away from his precious school, was confident in the abilities of those he'd left in charge of it to keep care of his home base. He was certain that if the school—his _flock_, more specifically—was threatened in Kyouya's absence, Sawada Tsunayoshi wouldn't hesitate to step up and purge the threat in Kyouya's place.

He _trusted_ Tsunayoshi's fangs to be strong enough for the task.

He _knew_ they were, or else he wouldn't be brimming with the weakness he called _satisfaction_, or _pride_ at the thought of the orange flames burning at the crest of the herbivore's forehead, or the sheer ferocity in Tsunayoshi's amber-orange eyes whenever he was provoked. A slight smile quirked at the corners of his lips, dragging his tonfas from his sleeves, and bringing his azure irises forward to face the enemy in front of him. He'd settled in this stance almost one thousand times, and yet he'd never grown accustomed to the velocity of which his entire mindset would plummet straight into the shafts of his weapons.

Thought or strategy was for herbivores. His instincts were sufficient enough to beat into the filthy lump of herbivorous flesh in front of him.

"You found me." Kyouya's eyes narrowed, but his lip curved upward.

"I played your game," he answered, raising a luminous tonfa across his body and igniting the purple Cloud flames without hesitation. He watched the brief flash of fear flicker across the young man's face—he couldn't be any older than say, Sakura Kyouko, if she truly _was_ younger than Kyouya himself was—and smirked darker, wider, his eyes beaming with violet shadows. "Now, let's finish this."

The teenager opposite him smirked as well—the smile brought chills to Kyouya's spine, arousing his bloodlust further—and pulled a weapon from thin air, indigo breaths of flame wavering into the wind around him. Glancing further down the length of the triple-clawed halberd in the boy's hand, Kyouya noted the sureness of his grasp on the shaft, the sly curve of his mouth, the slight hellish glow of the boy's skin. His senses scented the air, and Kyouya's irises narrowed as they identified with a certain Rokudo Mukuro.

He had a crawling feeling that this enemy was possessed—a messenger, perhaps a scout—by the pineapple bastard, which would explain the weapon reminiscent of a _trident_ in the boy's hand, as well as the use of Mist-class deathperation flames. It would explain _all_ of the lingering shivers in his spine at that moment, and for the time being, he was willing to believe the theory that Rokudo Mukuro was in front of him, rather than some pathetic herbivore selected by the pineapple bastard to test his current level of strength.

"I agree," the boy said, holding his weapon out in front of him as he charged for Kyouya, wasting no time in crossing the distance between them. Kyouya followed suit, hardly caring, eager to begin the bloodbath. "However, the one to walk away from this unscathed won't be you."

"Hmmm?" Kyouya's tonfa met the extending shaft of the trident in the teen's hand. "Interesting prediction. I suppose I'll allow you to delude yourself into thinking that it'll come true."

Something sparked in the boy's eyes, something dark, foreboding, _Rokudo Mukuro_-related: "I have the power to _make_ it true."

"Is that so?" Kyouya's blazing weapon slammed into the side of enemy's face, flinging him down toward the ground. The raven-haired skylark glowered down at him, and tensed his grip on his tonfas, expectant, still trembling from the force of his bloodlust. "_Prove it to me_."

And when the boy lifted his eyes from the pavement, Kyouya smirked.

—

"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"

Sakura Kyouko wheeled around the corner, holding her Soul Gem in her left hand, her brown hooded-cloak in the other, following Akemi Homura's instructions at a break-neck pace. The speed at which she was currently running would be borderline _impossible_ for any _normal_ human to maintain, but as Kyouko liked to say, she wasn't a normal human. She was a Magical Girl—she _thrived_ on the impossible. It was the _only_ reason why she still existed.

Glancing down at the pulsating gem in her palm, she rounded the next corner and shoved more magic into her limbs, cautiously keeping watch on the brewing darkness at the center of her Soul Gem—they hadn't fought Witches for a long, long, long time, since Mukuro had wreaked havoc on Kyouko's life—cursing herself for using too much in the past few days. She had expended more energy in the past week than she had in the span of a few years, since the Witches disappeared. She was _almost_ worried she was rusty at using her magic; she'd gone without using it for so long.

But the steadfast glow in her palm was anything _but_ rusty. She could feel something brushing at the edge of her senses, something potent and bloodthirsty—she smirked at the thought of Kyouya's hungry smile, and quickly scolded herself for losing her concentration—paired with something else, something elusive and _achingly_ familiar. Something she preferred not to remember, but couldn't stop herself from falling back to.

Rokudo Mukuro was here, that was the only explanation for the suddenly shadowy feeling to the air. It was the only way to explain the sudden longing to fight boiling in her veins, the only reason why she could possibly be overcome with an anger so fierce that even her pocky stick method couldn't contain, for long anyway. She'd run out of boxes and sticks before her temper was checked back even a single notch. She was so angry all of a sudden, and it didn't make sense to her unless she translated it into Sakura Kyouko-lingo, which stated that the bastard Rokudo Mukuro was here.

In Namimori. _Itching_ for a fight—rather, in a fight with someone _already_, if her instincts were still as sharp as she prided them to be—and appearing to be winning if her Soul Gem's pulsing was any indication of the current status of the fight. The darkness at the core grew blacker and blacker, the width of the crimson radiance fighting to stay wide and jack o' lantern bright, and Kyouko tripped at the sudden pang of pain in her limbs. Clenching her teeth, she shoved herself onwards, gritting her teeth into the shaft of her pocky stick that sat at the corner of her mouth.

_Kyouko, are you alright? Your heartbeat is fading from my senses. _

The red-haired girl closed her eyes and slid across the cobblestone, nearly missing her corner entirely, before taking off down the sidewalk once more. She only had a few more blocks to go before she reached the back of the shrine—a structure she hadn't known existed until only thirty minutes ago—where the battle was taking place. She knew they were fighting at the front, close to the stairs, according to Homura, which gave Kyouko the element of surprise if she attacked them both from behind.

Something about the cowardice of that method didn't sit well with Kyouko, but suited Homura just fine, considering the bookworm's fighting style.

_I'm running outta energy faster than I can run, that's what's wrong. Look, if you'd of told me to not take the roundabout route, I'd be there by now. _

Homura's response was immediate, and slightly pissed: _At least you have me to guide you. _

It was just like Homura to take the high ground. It was one of the reasons the purple Magical Girl pissed Kyouko off so much. In all of the fights—be it physical, or verbal—they'd been in, Kyouko had never won a single one of them. It wasn't as if victory over the black-haired twat would be unsatisfying, because that was a _lie_. It was just so hard to accomplish with such little patience, that Kyouko often times lost merely because she didn't have the restraint to hold herself back and think before she acted or spoke.

She was too _impulsive_, apparently.

_Am I getting close? I still can't see a damn thing 'cause of all these effin' trees. _

Regardless of whether or not the purple Magical Girl thought so, Kyouko scanned her surroundings for a dark alley, keeping her peripheral firmly focused on the sidewalks of the street even though she was facing forward. For all she knew, the enemy wasn't alone. He could've brought an entire army with him, and hid them in the shadows of the street corners in the disguise of ice cream sellers and gray van owners, or in other terms, _rapists_. She almost laughed out loud at the image that popped into her head.

_Yes. Find a dark corner, and once you finish, keep going straight. The shrine is right in front of you. _

Kyouko tossed her Soul Gem up into the air, and shifted it back into its ring form without a second thought, veered into the closest corner on her left. Biting her unwilling pocky stick in half, she flung her left hand out to her side, and watched as her school uniform tore itself to shreds at the sudden release of magic. Bundles of crimson magic gathered around her, smoothing across her skin to materialize her Magical Girl armor, and it bounced against her body as it settled into a comfortable position on her person. She held her hand at her side, palm facing the filthy pavement, and smirked as her spear pulsed into her grasp as her Soul Gem brightened against the center of her chest.

With a sly, sly, sly expression, she pulled her brown cloak on over her Magical Girl armor, hesitating before putting her hood on. She knew it was part of the plan to track and successfully locate Rokudo Mukuro and his followers without bringing panic to the populace of Namimori during the duration of their self-proclaimed reconnaissance period. But she couldn't help but feel like she was hiding herself, hiding her heart behind a swath of milk chocolate fabric. She almost wanted to throw it to the alley floor, but at the pulse of her Soul Gem, ticked her jaw and pulled the hood up, shadowing her eyes as she swung herself up onto the fire escape and took to the roofs.

_**Now**__ I see somethin'. Now that I'm at least __**ten feet**__ above the ground. _

She could've sworn she heard Homura chuckle into her mind, and laughed herself. It wasn't often that Kyouko and Homura found humor in the same things. But whenever they did, they tended to laugh harder than whenever they didn't. And though Kyouko wanted to beat the purple Magical Girl's ass into the dirt as many times as the wretch had humiliated Kyouko herself, whenever they agreed on something, Kyouko found her presence rather tolerable, and enjoyed spending time with her. It was just a question of how long that tolerance would last.

It typically didn't last long.

_Be careful. Your energy's weaker than it should be; Sayaka would be upset if you pushed yourself too hard. _

Kyouko curved the corner of her lip up.

_Is that your way of telling me that you're worried about me? _

Just as Kyouko reached the stretch of open ground before the hill bordering the rear of the shrine, she received a reply:

_Yes. _

And coming from Akemi Homura, that was disturbing.

—

It was becoming a tedious chore, fighting this herbivore. He wouldn't stay down long enough for Kyouya to successfully deal the final blow, the one to end their little sparring match that had branched further into the grounds of the shrine. They were at the foot of the stairs now—Kyouya was cornered at his backside, not that he was keeping track of where his blows were headed and where they landed him when _deflected_—and the skylark was growing agitated, _incredibly_ agitated.

He'd even materialized his Vongola Gear—the need for extending chains had risen rather suddenly, and he'd reluctantly summoned it in a blaze of violet Cloud flames—and that hadn't hampered the enemy's movements sufficiently enough to Kyouya's expectations. And even though he was still able to protect himself and hold his ground with it, his Vongola Gear wasn't doing anything remotely effective, and it pissed him off. Never before had a battle lasted this long, it was always finished within moments of his summoning his Vongola Gear or his mind to click into finally-_truly_-carnivorous mode.

But this had been going on for at least _twenty_ minutes, and still going strong.

There wasn't a wound on the boy at all, it was almost as if Kyouya's tonfas were swinging through air and air alone, and it puzzled him. He still wasn't entirely versed in the capabilities of deathperation flames, and had no interest in ever becoming well-versed in them, but he had to admit that some prior knowledge on the subject would've been greatly beneficial prior to earning a deep slice in his left side as a result of his ignorance. And not to mention, his stamina was approaching its limit as well—the sounds of Kyouya's panting huffed into his own ears, agitating him further.

He wasn't going to lose, _not_ to this _bastard_.

_Especially_ if he was possessed by Rokudo Mukuro.

He would never lose to that son of a bitch _ever_ again.

Over his dead body.

But he was damn well close to losing. He couldn't breathe very well—though Kyouya would never admit it, or show it—and despite the fact that he was currently _forcing_ his legs to move, he was _completely_ out of endurance and stamina required to finish this. And when the boy's trident slammed into his raised tonfas and flung him back into the steps, his body completely gave out and refused to lift him up to his feet for what felt like the thousandth time—he'd only been knocked back once, this made twice, and he didn't want to last for a third time, it was _distasteful_—so he laid there, glaring at the teenager with a hatred he reserved for Rokudo Mukuro and those connected to him.

The teen opposite him laughed. "I told you, didn't I? I could make my prediction true."

"Over my dead body," Kyouya huffed, pulling his heels back to provide himself with leverage to raise him from the stairs he'd smashed into.

The bastard was going to _pay_ for damaging shrine property. Mark his words, Kyouya would _make_ him pay. As well as his medical bill, if he lost enough blood to render Kyouya immovable. He was pretty close though—his vision swam, and though he was wobbling to his feet, he couldn't see as well as he could before he'd suffered the only blow that mattered over the course of their battle. And because it mattered, Kyouya was determined to damage him just as fiercely, as well as deeply. If he was going to be dizzy, the enemy in front of him would be too.

It was only fair, of course.

"You can barely stand up," the boy pointed out, gesturing to Kyouya's unsteady posture, and steadfast leakage of blood. With each drop that fell to the pavement beneath him, he felt fear steadily begin to rise inside him, and though he knew he _should_ be afraid of passing out in the middle of a fight—therefore, _losing_—he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What are you talking about?" Kyouya asked, lifting his tonfas by sheer luck. Holding them was going to be a problem though, his fingers were growing numb, sluggish, and he didn't like it. "I'm perfectly fine."

The boy didn't hesitate to charge him, even though Kyouya was severely weakened. And Kyouya didn't hesitate to pull his right tonfa back, shove as much _irritation_ into it as he possibly could, and send it flying forward to meet the indigo-capped trident that streaked toward his offense. And though he managed to shove it back, the boy was lightning quick, coming up and kicking Kyouya in the stomach to send him tumbling back toward the ground again. And this time, Kyouya wasn't sure he'd manage to get up again.

"You're not, and that last attack proves it, as well as me right." He took a step toward the panting Kyouya, and smirked. "I beat you, Hibari Kyouya. You're finished, once I hit you this last time."

"I'm not finished yet," Kyouya huffed, moving to get up once more. His legs groaned, collapsing to the rubble under him, and his eyes widened at the stab of pain in his side when he tried to use his arms to get up. With a clench of his teeth, he steeled his resolve, and pushed through it, shaking into his stance once more, barely managing to hold himself upright, let alone on his feet. Though he knew now that it wasn't the pain that was stopping him.

It was the blood loss, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I've got to say that your will to fight is certainly admirable," the teen said, earning a fraction of width between Kyouya's eyelashes. The trident sparked, lit flame in his palm, earning a few more fractions, and the foreboding footsteps echoing the display of ferocity in the Mist flames at his side only added to the growing margin between the top and bottom rims of Kyouya's eyes. "But this fight is over, as soon as I land one more strike on you."

And before Kyouya could retort, the teen surged forward again.

And as Kyouya crossed his weapons in front of his face to protect himself, something struck the ground between them, and lashed out at the enemy in front of Kyouya, sending the bastard teenager flying backwards into the trees.

The raven-haired skylark managed to lower his flaming tonfas, and focus on the sight in front of him: a rippling brown cloak, slender yellow-shafted spear with a silver-red head at the peak of it, red-white boots, and what looked to him like an outfit of the same color scheme underneath the cloak. He couldn't see hair, or a face, which seemed almost impossible to him, but the thick shadows framing the underside of the brown cloak were dark enough to hinder his sight of anything on this person's body. The only thing he knew for certain was the color of the cloak, the person's weapon of choice, and the fact that the person in front of him was female.

That only made his situation _worse_.

"Hey, you," Kyouya said, lifting one tonfa threateningly, "get out of my way. That's—"

When he wobbled before finishing his sentence, the person pressed her back up against his chest to bump him upright, and even though he swayed, Kyouya managed to regain his balance quickly enough to make a swipe at the cloaked figure in front of him. The butt of her spear blocked his tonfa with a mere flick of her wrist, holding him away from the back of her head and gently tipping him backwards onto his heels, just hard enough to push him away.

In any normal circumstance, Kyouya would've resisted, and fought back.

But he was so damn dizzy at the moment that he couldn't see straight. And now that he had the opportunity, he could tie up his side and bandage the bleeding. He felt something touch him, and glanced down at the hand the figure held back to him, and blinked as he noted the object to be bandage wrap, which—even though his anger and irritation was at its peak from _losing_ the goddamn fight and needing to be saved—though needed, wasn't appreciated, and he was half-tempted to throw it at the back of her head. But at the gentleness of her fingertips against his palm, he couldn't help but accept it out of shock, and shock alone.

That touch…

A flash of recognition took hold of the teenager in front of them, and the following smirk seemed poisonous enough to make the girl standing just ahead of Kyouya spin her spear into her left hand, and plant her feet. She made no sound, even though the young man in opposite her was laughing at her protective stance, mocking her desire to protect Kyouya in his weakened state, which to that moment, _still_ pissed him off. He could feel the death aura pouring out of her from her back, taste the rage, the anger, the hatred boiling inside her with every one of his senses, and despite himself, let her burning feelings wash over him.

They, if anything, were welcome to him.

"You're a familiar face," the teen said, obviously speaking to the girl in front of Kyouya. "You're a very, very familiar face. One that's so familiar that it feels like almost yesterday that I last saw you."

The girl didn't reply. Merely held her silence, her posture, and her tongue.

But that didn't stop the boy from continuing. "Why are you so hesitant to speak to me? We haven't seen each other in several years—haven't you missed me, even in the slightest?"

Kyouya watched the small sliver of her mouth that was visible to him clench, saw her bite the corner of her mouth hard enough to draw luminous beads of ruby blood. Still, she did not reply. She trembled though, and though he initially assumed it to be fear—a condescending comment was well on its way, and ready for use—he later identified it as _rage_ at the sudden flood of bloodlust roaring from her entire body. It electrified the gusting air around them it was so strong, Kyouya was in awe, for the first time in his life.

"After all, our parting was quite bittersweet, wouldn't you agree?" She shifted the head of her spear forward as if to warn the young man to stop talking. Kyouya had to agree—his herbivorous rambling _was_ rather annoying. "Almost too bitter. You didn't even tell me where I could find you, Sa—"

It was then that she attacked, and Kyouya almost didn't see it, or believe it.

Her solid, and strong spear split into several sections at a jerk of her hand, and even though Kyouya was just behind her, she managed to gather all of the chained pieces together into a cyclone of moving projectiles around her and spin around. He watched the sureness of her grip as manipulated the head of her weapon through the air around her, and barely caught the flash of her shadowed mouth before her spinning tornado of chained sections pushed him back further, allowing her room to line up her target, and fire her weapon at the young man faster than Kyouya could blink.

It was so elegant, and fast that he was taken aback for a moment, before the sound of the head of her spear hitting the man opposite her brought Kyouya back to himself. One thing was for certain: this girl, this female, this _carnivore_ was _strong_, perhaps strong enough to hold her own against Kyouya himself in a fight. This fact pleased him, and though he was pissed, still, he silently—albeit reluctantly—passed the battle onto her when she turned one shadowed eye back to him, wordlessly asking, _i'll take it from here? _

And he made certain that his answering gaze said something along the lines of, _you'd better not die before I have my chance at you, understand? _

He could've sworn that within the shadows of her brown cloak, she'd smiled at his expression. But before he could make certain that that little quirk of her lip _was_ a smile, she had already turned around.

"You haven't changed at all," the boy stated, lifting his dirtied body from the ground, and swaying to his feet. She didn't shift from her position, though Kyouya could see that she was anxious to. He could feel her trembling in the soles of his shoes, she was that restless. "As _impatient_ as always."

He lifted his trident, and she spun her spear as she shifted, catching it and surging forward to meet him. She crossed the distance between them wordlessly, jabbing her lance forward and holding it still as the man pulled his trident back in preparation to stop her. He heard her hiss in frustration as she held him away from her by the tip of her spear point, the air beginning to crackle with energy and dare Kyouya say it, or think it, _magic_. Her cloak flowed out behind her—he noted the presence of her red-white duster skirt beneath the cloak, and what looked like scarlet flames burning just between both swaths of fabric—as she leaned into the man's defense, refusing to give any ground.

Until he pushed his trident forward, sliding the tip against the length of the metal head, and aiming swiftly for her vulnerable stomach. She was faster, hopping back on both feet, before jumping up into the air and extending her spear in the same moment, shooting herself at least two stories into the sky in the span of one of Kyouya's heartbeats. His azure eyes flicked from side to side, watching the sections of her lance disconnect, and gather beneath her as she aimed her path of descent toward her opponent, not hesitating to jab the fully connected spear at the boy.

Kyouya raised his tonfas to protect his eyes from the surge of rubble that rose from the pavement, and quickly lowered them to watch her next move—she pushed his trident into the ground and held it there, sweeping her left boot up into the air and kicking the trapped man in the chest—and ticking his jaw at the elegance of her movements. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed someone this strong in his midst. She was everything he wanted in an opponent: relentless, merciless, fierce in both tactics as well as execution, and _carnivorous_.

The raven-haired skylark regarded her in expectant silence as she walked toward the recovering man, holding her spear at her side, her back knocked and straight. He could feel the bloodlust emanating from her back, and back alone, it was potent enough to send his nerves and skin into a frenzy. Her spear—once she'd reached a suitable, but close distance—rose to slice across the boy's cheek, opening up a deep, but harmless wound on the side of his face, spilling blood into the air. She ducked underneath his reflexive swing, and only jabbed her spear forward once, twice, thrice more times, all aiming for spots vital for movement as well as consciousness.

Not _only_ was she strong, she was also incredibly well-informed in terms of the human body. The trident-wielding young man dropped to his knees beneath her, and she twisted her grip on the shaft of her spear, holding it down toward him with a clenched left hand, the tip reflecting the waning sunlight just short of his neck. At that moment, Kyouya uttered a slight, quiet, faint breath of a sigh—the final blow he'd been desperate to execute, the one meant to finish this pointless battle once and for all.

"It's _over_," she whispered, so softly that Kyouya almost couldn't hear her. The lilt of her voice was familiar—darker than shadow, blacker than night—nostalgic, pricking at something resting at the back of his mind. He could almost imagine the look on her face, the deep, deep, deep frown carved into the unyielding twist of her lips. "Send a postcard."

The young man laughed, and she shifted the head of her lance back slightly. "You're just as reckless as always, my scarlet cherry blossom."

Kyouya's eyes widened as the teenager's trident whipped upward to fling her weapon out of her grasp, and disarm her, leaving the nameless figure vulnerable. He knew she was at a disadvantage now—the tip of her spear jabbed into the destroyed pavement just a few feet from her—she wouldn't be able to reach her weapon in time to defend herself from his next attack. And though he didn't want to waste his energy protecting and saving someone else, he couldn't deny the fact that he owed her a favor.

Without a second thought, he flicked his left hand open, summoning small, spiked handcuffs, and aimed them at the boy's left arm, his trident, and his leg, earning a gasp of surprise from the boy as well as the girl currently weaponless. And though he'd already succeeded in binding the enemy's left side together—the boy wobbled where he stood as the flame-tipped spikes stabbed into his limbs, holding them too close for easy maneuverability—he didn't hesitate to fling one of his extending chains at her spear, wrap it around the shaft, and pull it from the air, sending it flying toward the girl.

Their eyes met—he could see they were honey brown though shadowed by chocolate fabric, the same color as Sakura Kyouko's, he noted with a start—and his body stuttered at the sight of her small, delicate smile, _thank you. _

Reaching up with her right hand for the spinning lance, she swiftly caught it in her palm and twisted her wrist, smoothly and gracefully bringing the weapon down to her side, flattening her left hand in front of her, her stance poised and ready. The young man, upon seeing her ready, swept his trident across the air and laughed, materializing several fireballs—_illusions_, he could feel it—and shoving them through the air toward her. He watched her eyes widen, noticed her plant her feet apart from each other, and cross her spear in front of herself, preparing to take on each of the fireballs with her weapon.

He'd never seen anyone so _reckless_, yet sure of themselves.

She took the first one at the upper half of the shaft, close to her ungloved hands, holding it against her for a mere moment before sending it flying to her left with an annoyed shove. The next followed soon after—it shoved her toward her left across the section of cobblestone she was fighting on, her arms tensed and straight even as the flames intensified. She spun around, curving her spear along with her, and batting the fireball back into the dented stairs that Kyouya had previously destroyed. She didn't have the time to watch it explode, for the third one roared through the air, and with a slight narrow of her eyes, she took the next at the very edge of the head of her weapon, and braced it with her red-white boot.

He could hear the fire crackling eagerly from where he was standing, and he noted the soft, quiet hiss of pain slithering out from between her lips. The sound was cut off, however, when she managed to spin around—in the process, halting the motion of the fireball itself for a split second—fast enough to whip her right foot into the body of the fireball, an action that surprised Kyouya, as well as her opponent. Her irises flickered with pain, and her movements stuttered a moment as she righted herself forward, raising her lance in front of her one last time to take the final fireball at the very center of her weapon's long shaft.

Her arms trembled as she held the brute force of the illusion her enemy had created away from her slender, supple form, and for her slight size, Kyouya was impressed. Her cloak rippled in the wind, her eyes narrowed, quivering against what he assumed to be pain, her legs planted and struggling to stay firm. He knew she wasn't going to be able to hold the projectile off much longer—he could see it on her face, feel it on the air, hear it in the choked noise biting into the fierce wind the collision of the trident wielder and the girl's hostile intent—and raised his tonfa to jump in a moment's notice, surprised at himself for even _thinking_ of helping her.

That didn't change the fact that he owed her _two_ favors, not just one.

She narrowed her eyes once more, and twisted the shaft of her spear in both hands, drawing it back from the fireball, allowing it to blow through the air behind her as her body swayed to the right, clearing the projectile before rocking back into her previous position. She slapped the shaft of her weapon back into her right palm a heartbeat later, and leaned forward, holding the tip out to her enemy. Kyouya's tonfa fell back to his side, _useless_.

"Oh? You deflected them all." Both Kyouya and the girl tensed—that manner of speech could only be _one_ person. Kyouya raised his tonfas as the girl straightened up, swaying to her left before catching herself with a stubborn, irritated grumble. "I'm thoroughly impressed, my scarlet cherry blossom. You've always been quick to bloom in terms of fighting strength and capabilities."

She quirked the corner of her lip slightly, just enough to let Kyouya know that the comment registered with her.

"Although, this body isn't of much further use to me, so I shall be taking my leave now." Kyouya swayed back onto his heels and took off, running for the bastard he now knew to be _Rokudo Mukuro_ in presence alone, heedless of the fact that he'd left his fight in the hands of the brown-eyed girl in front of him. "Your impatience never ceases to amaze me, Hibari Kyouya."

"Cut the chit-chat and come at—" He jerked up short at the sight of the yellow shaft of the girl's weapon, halting his advance. He raised his tonfa to swipe at her in retaliation for interrupting, but when his eyes caught sight of the trembling of her grip on her spear, he stopped. Just _barely_.

"How _noble_ of you," Mukuro's presence said to her, speaking from inside the enemy's body. The girl quivered where she stood at the sound of his voice, the shaking of her hand on her spear quickening. "You always were _selfless_."

She flinched.

"Still not speaking?" Mukuro asked, turning away. "I suppose this suffices for a meet-and-greet, or, rather, a _reunion_ for at least two of us."

Kyouya snorted. "You and I are not finished here."

"At this point, Hibari Kyouya, you can barely stand," Mukuro pointed out, beginning to walk further into the town, but veering off toward the outskirts. The girl didn't release Kyouya from her one-sided cage, instead listening to Mukuro's quiet, soft addition, "and you, my scarlet cherry blossom, I hope to see again soon."

As if he'd never appeared, his presence then faded from the air around them.

A few moments passed in silence, nothing but the sound of the wind sweeping leaves up from the earth around them wafting through the shrine grounds surrounding them. But once Kyouya was certain that he could no longer sense Mukuro's presence, he released his Vongola Gear, tensing his left arm under the reassuring _clamp_ of the Bracelet of the Clouds. He raised a palm to his face, yawning into his hand as he stored his tonfas under his black jacket, and moved to go, but the click of heels shifting across cobblestone stopped him.

"Herbivore," he said, turning to face her, unsure of what to say, but managing to maintain his indifferent mask, "your presence here was not required, nor welcome. I don't recall ever asking to be protected, let alone _saved_."

She didn't say anything, only dropped her head in front of him, her mouth a single, seamless line. There was no emotion on her shadowed face as she took a step toward him, and another, and another, before she stood directly in front of him, within breathing distance, within holding distance. She was still trembling, not as fiercely now, but he could still tell she was shivering by the tell-tale ripple of her brown cloak and red duster skirt at her sides. Her fingers gripped onto the hem of her pink skirt, and her legs locked under her, her teeth biting into her shadowed bottom lip.

Then, she reached forward with her fingertips, timid and slow, her movement taking him by surprise, but he nevertheless remained still, determined to hold his ground against whatever she was intending to do. He was stunned further when her fingers slid just beneath his chin—his lips parted to say something to her, to order her to release him, to step out of his breathing space—and she took another, final step forward, before tilting her head to her right and pushing herself up onto her tip toes to lightly touch her lips to his.

He could barely feel her mouth against his—it was just the barest, scarcest, gentlest brush of lip-contact, nothing intense or hungry—she was so, so, so far away, but her scent flooded his already hazy senses, filling him with an ethereal breeze laced with cherries and warm, summer air. His eyes widened nonetheless, but he didn't push her away, or pull her closer, for just as quickly as they'd come, her lips were gone, her face hovering back to their previous distance from him, and holding steady as the girl faced him from behind the folds of her cloak.

His eyes met hers, level, steady, poised and polished despite his incessant urge to sway where he stood, refusing to give anything away, to hide all weakness from her, despite the fact that the only reason why he was still standing was because she'd saved him when she did. Her irises held his, soft, vulnerable, hesitant, but warm and bright within the shadows, and her moist lips curved upward into a light smile, resonating with his own mouth, prompting his lips to tingle in response. He could feel her bloodlust beginning to fade, her emotions become brighter, warmer, rounder.

Her mouth parted into an easy, but faint grin, "Yeah, I'll be safe with you."

He almost didn't expect her to step into him, and lie against his shoulder, chin on his collarbone, she was so peaceful. He took her weight despite his reluctance, and watched with wonder and alarm as her red-white outfit burst apart into crimson sparkles against his chest, against his body, rising up into his breathing space before fading into the air around them completely, as if they'd never existed. Soundlessly, he raised his right hand to the back of her head, and grabbed at the brown hood of her cloak, before steeling himself and pulling it back.

Gazing down at the red-haired girl unconscious against him, he suppressed a shiver.

It was Sakura Kyouko.

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: Alright. So, to announce the fact that I'm going to be on FanFiction lock-down starting later this week, I finished this rather quickly. Anyway, I won't be updating this for a while (I think, unless by some miracle I'm allowed to), so I just wanted to give you guys something... I dunno, game-changing to play with. Hope you enjoy it.

**notes2**: I still own _nothing_, 'kay peeps?


	11. of phone calls and short yukatas

—

**eleven.**

—

As a rule, Akemi Homura _never_ let herself worry about anyone.

It wasn't because she didn't care, because she did—_especially_ when Kaname Madoka was involved, and Sakura Kyouko, to an extent at least—she just didn't see the point in fussing over someone who certainly knew the risks when they wandered off or got taken by someone on the side of the road in the dead of night. She didn't see the point in something so human, when she _clearly_ wasn't human at all. She felt that emotions were a humanistic burden, and in truth, they were. They were the reason so many Magical Girls died.

Bottling them up was slow suicide—though, because Homura had Madoka and Kyouko to talk to, she needn't worry about self-destructing and becoming a Witch—and giving into the expanse of despair that one was feeling was an even worse way to die. There was no winning situation for Magical Girls. The only way to die peacefully was to accept one's fate, live for as long as you could, and perish slowly and quietly in the shadows, because none knew of their battles, and none knew of the weight of the burdens they were bearing up until the moment they died.

It was a pitiful, pitiful, pitiful way to go, but Homura accepted it as her chosen method of death for one reason: protecting others. As long as she had the power to protect Madoka, Kyouko, Mami, and even Sayaka, she didn't care if she was ripped to pieces, or it her soul was strung up by the threads of time and held under the surface of the river, drowning her in her memories of despair from moments she'd put behind her. She didn't care, as long as she could protect them with all her heart, her soul.

That was why Kyouko's absence disturbed her so much.

She hadn't been able to put her finger on the nagging feeling in her stomach, and thus she attempted calling her cell phone. She'd been trying for at least thirty minutes before deciding to call the red-haired girl via telepathy, and had come up with the same result as her cell phone calls. She couldn't reach her, even though Homura was speaking directly into her mind. There was no reason why Kyouko wouldn't be able to hear her, unless she was unconscious, or cut off from her magic.

Both possibilities _terrified_ Homura.

And so, she tried calling again and again and again, starting with Kyouko's cell phone, and switching back and forth interchangeably. She couldn't stand the thought of Kyouko being dead, or trapped somewhere—she screwed her eyes shut as images flooded over her—and so called over and over again, not resting despite the fact that forty-five more minutes passed before she managed to get through to the other side of the phone line. And even so, it wasn't Kyouko who picked up the cell phone.

"_Who is this?_" Homura narrowed her purple eyes, and bit the corner of her mouth. It was a male speaking—so Kyouko _had_ been taken by someone on the side of the road. That was the only logical option, because Kyouko being unconscious was physically impossible. The girl wouldn't go down even if it killed her. "_Answer me._"

"I should be asking you that, nameless man," Homura responded icily, closing her eyes. "I am assuming you are in possession of Sakura Kyouko, are you not?"

"_I am._"

"Put her on the phone," Homura ordered, earning a snort in response. She waited a moment, tapping her toe on the tile floor of the kitchen as she paused, waiting for a response. When one didn't come, she said again, "Put her on the phone."

Silence.

Then:

"_She can't speak at the moment._"

Homura was beginning to grow afraid. "Why can't she speak?"

"_She's unconscious,_" the man replied, before adding, "_and I will be keeping her for the night._"

Just what the hell was Kyouko doing? "What?"

"_I will be keeping her for the night_," he repeated, forcefully this time. Homura slammed her fist into the countertop, shaking the floor beneath her with the force of her anger. Whether it was directed at herself, the man, or Kyouko, she wasn't sure. "_I have some questions she needs to answer._"

Questions?

"Just who are you?" Homura asked, turning her head toward the phone.

"_I don't intend to answer that, nor am I obligated to,_" the man answered. Homura's breath escaped in shaky puffs, numerous and wasteful. He seemed to hear the worry in her staggered breathing, and continued, "_I will not harm her._"

It wasn't in Homura to just trust anyone with her friends. She'd made that mistake with Rokudo Mukuro, and the result of which had nearly destroyed them all. It had harmed and wounded Kyouko more than the rest of them, merely because the red-haired girl had sacrificed herself to stop him, and had come out bearing scars that to this day hadn't faded away, hadn't healed. But if this man was who she _thought_ he was, Homura could trust him to take care of Kyouko.

She'd be safe with Hibari Kyouya.

"I trust you to keep her safe, Hibari-san," Homura said, earning a sharp inhalation of breath. She'd been right on the mark with that call, it seemed. She was speaking to Hibari Kyouya, the one Kyouko had rushed to protect, the one whose image had burned into Homura's mind during the silence of their telepathy, during the battle, according to Homura.

Yes, she'd be safe with him.

Homura could relax, just a bit.

"_Yes,_" he responded, "_that is wise of you._"

Homura smiled—a small, tiny smile: "When she regains consciousness, would you have her call me?"

"_Hn._"

—

In the time since he'd managed to half-drag, half-carry the red-haired Sakura Kyouko back to his lodging, Hibari Kyouya's mind hadn't been able to stop turning back to the memories of watching her fight, hearing her heart beat against his, tasting her lips on his. In terms of personality and nature, he rejected attachments, sentiment, and feelings. He couldn't stand the prospect of forming bonds with people, with _herbivores_. It disgusted him, wrinkled his nose with distaste whenever he thought about it.

But Sakura Kyouko was an entirely _different_ story.

He couldn't get past the images of her fighting, of her—he flinched at the thought—_protecting_ him. He couldn't deny that that was exactly what she was doing the moment she placed herself between him and Mukuro at the foot of the shrine, and the instant she'd taken up her weapon in both hands, he knew that that was what she'd intended to do from the very beginning. He hadn't needed to see her face to know that her purpose was to protect him, to keep him out of harm's way. And even though he'd prefer to say that he hadn't needed help, he knew deep down that he hadn't been in any state to fight any longer.

His bandaged wound ached at his side, and in typical Hibari Kyouya fashion, he merely narrowed his eyes, and continued into the bedroom where he was keeping Sakura Kyouko. Her scent slammed into him all at once when he opened the door, buffeting his senses all in a rush, but the ethereal attack wasn't met with coldness and opposition. He continued toward her, and gazed down at her, watched her chest rise and fall within the folds of her clothes.

He hadn't understood why he had a shorter, _redder_, prettier female yukata at the back of his closet when he'd gone searching for something to change her into. And what had been even more awkward and difficult was the actual changing process—being unconscious, Kyouko hadn't offered any assistance, and had only made things more difficult for him. Though he'd managed to change her into something lighter and airier—not to mention something that didn't look out of place against his traditional home filled with tatami mats and bamboo screen doors—he couldn't shake the images of her body underneath the protection of her seifuku.

Holy hell, she was _changing_ the shit out of him.

And he didn't like it, at all.

He pulled up a soft pillow for him to sit on, and dragged his low-lying desk over to where he was sitting; placing the tea cup down on the desktop and flipping open the book in front of him. Soon after he did so, the room fell silent, the only sound in the room being the gentle, delicate inhales and exhales sighing from between Kyouko's lips. It gave him the quiet he needed to do his work, but even though he was able to do it, he couldn't concentrate. Not with _her_ lying as vulnerably as she was.

He sipped his tea, hoping that the blazing hot liquid would calm his riotous nerves, but the uncomfortable feeling came back moments after the warmth settled in his stomach. Kyouya closed his eyes, and inhaled and exhaled as slowly, and calmly as he could, refusing to give into the feeling of helplessness rising inside him. He knew he was losing his edge, simply because of the fact that she'd touched and kissed him hours before, and at the thought of her face pressed against his, his lips ached.

He'd never known what it meant to long for someone, but he knew he wanted Kyouko not _just_ because of his bloodlust.

He wanted her because she appealed to every bone in his body, had a hold on him stronger than anything he'd ever fought before. She was becoming something of an addiction, a fix, a subject of obsession and he didn't know how to control himself. He'd thought he'd given up all those emotions of desire, want, need, crashing and craving, but the feelings he held for her were proving him wrong. He had the capacity to want the touch of another, to crave the taste of another, to lust for the feel of another's skin against his.

"… What… What the hell…"

His eyes flicked toward the shape lying on the futon just in front of him, watched her fingers twitch against the side of the mattress, the smooth curve of her leg bare to the lights above them. Her amber eyes, though clouded, were open and scanning her surroundings, and when they found Kyouya, she blinked, flushed, and screwed her eyes shut tight, suddenly embarrassed and scared. He almost smirked at the sight—so she _did _remember.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she chanted over and over, covering her face with her hands, "I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, this is just the result of Sayaka's snoring molesting my good night's sleep, nothing else."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be in one of your dreams, then, Sakura Kyouko?"

"Hibari is not here, Kyouko, Hibari is _not_ here," she continued, completely ignoring his question.

He closed his eyes, and sighed. He had no other choice, it seemed. He lifted his small desk off the floor and pushed it aside, crawling (as close to crawling as someone as graceful as _Hibari Kyouya_ could get without looking like a girl) toward her and climbing up onto the futon, placing his knees on both sides of her hips, bracing himself above her with his hands beside her head. He made sure not to crush her under his body weight, as well as to keep his face at a comfortable distance from hers, but stay close enough to not have to speak too loud.

"But," he whispered, his eyes closed, "I am here. You're in my lodging, herbivore. Of course I'd be in your company."

"Stop talking!" she ordered, laughing to herself, "you're making it worse!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, narrowing his now open eyes into azure slits. "I don't understand."

"_Of course_ you wouldn't, dumbass!" she exclaimed, yielding to his touch as he peeled her hands from her face and pinned them to the mattress. Though she shifted her back against the futon, raising her chest for a split second to touch his, she didn't resist his hold. "You… took off my clothes and _changed_ me."

"You were unconscious," he replied, brushing her off, "you were otherwise incapable of removing your dirty clothes yourself. I simply did it for you."

"If I could see straight," she started, letting her head fall back to the futon beneath her, "I'd _kick your ass_."

She couldn't see?

"Hibari, I need some room here," Kyouko pointed out, gesturing to her chest and his with her chin. He glanced down at the pale, strawberry-hued flesh visible between the parted edges of her crimson yukata, and jerked himself away from the proximity. Her lip curved upward, honey-colored eyes suddenly ripe with amusement. "So, you're just as skittish as ever, huh?"

He tightened his grip on her wrists. "You are in no position to mock me."

"While that _may_ be true," she said with a sigh, "I'm not exactly the most _obedient_ of women."

As if that hadn't been the most _suggestive_ of comments he'd ever heard.

"You're getting hot and bothered again." Her tone was almost _sugar_ it sounded so sweet. Kyouya gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, avoided looking at her for fear of imagining that kiss again. "Is this how you behave after getting kissed by a girl?"

Shit.

"Be quiet," he muttered, biting the words out from between his teeth. "Just stop talking."

"Aw, did I hit a sweet spot?" Kyouko asked, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Just let me fix it for you, you know, take the bite out of it."

"I will bite you to death if you so much as _twitch_ a finger, herbivore," he grumbled, tightening his grasp on her wrists.

A breathless gasp escaped her—Kyouya's eyes flashed down toward her, his legs began to ache, and with a start, he realized that he hadn't been tightening just his grip on her arms. He'd been clenching his grip on her waist as well. He watched her breathe, listened to the sounds of her pants fill the space between them, noted the steadfast rise and fall of her chest, heard her heart pound inside her rib cage, before he released her, raising himself from the futon and returning to his spot beside it.

Kyouko lifted herself into a sitting position moments later, and turned toward him, "What?"

"You need to rest," he answered simply, setting his desk in front of himself once more. "We'll talk later."

"Hibari—" Her eyes widened, her body swayed where she sat, and Kyouya snorted as her back hit the futon again. "Of all the times."

"I told you, herbivore," Kyouya said, crossing his arms. "You need to rest."

"Damn it," she coughed, clutching her arms around herself and rolling, "damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, _damn it all to hell and back_!"

He sighed.

"You're overreacting," he pointed out. Kyouko turned her head over her shoulder, and glared.

"Try being in my body right now, and you'll see how painful this shit is," she spat, one eye falling shut. "Damn it. Why now? I should've listened to Homura, held back a little more, _at least_."

She'd been holding back?

"What did you just say?" he asked, opening his eyes. "You were holding back… against Rokudo Mukuro?"

She smirked, "Doesn't sit well with you or somethin'? It was my choice you know, and I kicked his ass anyways, so why're you so angry?"

That hadn't even been her full strength, and he was already impressed? Something told him that this girl was more than meets the eye, that there was more to her than he'd already seen.

"Look, I didn't want to kill him," she said, flipping her hand back up to her face. "I just wanted to beat him, that's all."

"He wasn't there in the first place," Kyouya snorted, restraining his anger, "he was fighting through a puppet of his choosing."

"Tell me something I don't know," she snapped. "Next time he shows his face around here, I'll rip him to shreds."

"I'll be the one to do that, Sakura Kyouko," Kyouya replied, sipping from his tea. Kyouko laughed. "What's so funny, herbivore?"

"You got your ass kicked so badly I had to blow my cover and save you," she mocked, laughing. "What makes you think you stand a better chance than I do?"

He smiled.

"I don't quiver."

She narrowed her eyes. "You talk too much."

"And you are an eyesore," he snarled. Kyouko sat up, crossing her legs in front of her despite the shortness of her yukata. She almost didn't seem to care that he could barely see the shadows of her underwear if he looked closely enough.

Not that he wanted to.

"Anyway, I'm kinda hungry right now," she yawned, patting a hand to her mouth. The action made his nose crinkle.

The red-haired girl glanced around, gathering her long, thick scarlet hair into a ponytail at the back of her head, fumbling around her lap for her black ribbon. Kyouya snorted, and reached for the side of the futon, and pulled her onyx hair ribbon from the pillows. Their fingers touched when he handed it off to her, and in typical Hibari Kyouya fashion, he averted his gaze with a snort, instead dropping his line of sight to her revealing topside.

"The obscenity of your dress code is—"

"_For the love of God_, Hibari, you're _nineteen_ years old," she groaned, lifting herself from the futon and stood above him. "Yes, I have breasts, yes, the insides are showing, but I'm not shoving them in your face, so grow the hell up."

Kyouya lifted his gaze to hers as she leaned down toward him, her crimson bangs sliding forward across her cheeks.

"'Sides, wasn't it you that put this on me in the first place?" she asked, tilting her head. Kyouya pulled out his tonfas without a moment's hesitation, raising them defensively, baring the metal shafts fiercely. "Hey, you don't wanna challenge me, Skylark. Trust me—I'm restless enough."

"Show me," he replied, rising to his feet, taking a few steps toward her. She didn't move from where she was, planting her feet, her ponytail swaying through the air behind her. "I don't believe you."

"You _really_ want me to show you how restless I am?"

"Not especially."

She tossed her head: "Then why taunt me?!"

"Because it's amusing."

"Nah," she started, pushing herself up onto her tip toes, meeting his gaze eye-to-eye, her lips achingly close, "you just want me, don't you?"

Kyouya's heart rose to beat once.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Really?" He nodded, and pulled his face back from hers as she added, "Then, that wasn't a stutter I just heard, was it?"

"No."

She smirked, and hopped past him, touching the soles of her feet to the tatami mat elegantly. He watched her knees buckle just under her, Kyouko's hands reaching for the floor, amber eyes narrowed in frustration. He could've told her that she wasn't strong enough to move around yet—standing up was one thing, but taking a breezy, hopping step like that was another thing entirely—Kyouya reached out, taking a wrist in his hand and wrenching her backwards, pressing his other hand to her back to keep her upright.

"You need to rest," he repeated, his order meeting her twisted scowl head-on. Her red eyebrows fell over her stubborn auburn irises irritably, and she pulled against his grip, struggling to break free.

He didn't let go.

"I just stepped wrong," she said.

"You haven't recovered, herbivore, _lie down_," he commanded.

"I'm starving."

"Don't make me subdue you."

Her lip curved up haughtily: "Subdue me? Hell, that sounds fun."

"Just _lie down_, herbivore," Kyouya ordered, closing his eyes.

Kyouko didn't resist him this time—she stepped back, pressing her spine into his chest, and rolled her head back, the back of her skull lying against his shoulder. He couldn't deny the fact that her touch felt pleasant against his skin, but it didn't change the fact that she needed to lie down. Her legs wouldn't support her if she tried to walk again. And he sure as hell didn't feel like carrying her ass if she fell over because she wanted to be stubborn. For how slender she looked, she was fairly heavy. Though her weight had initially been no problem for him, over time, it became difficult for him to hold up.

"I'll lie down after I eat something," Kyouko said, her lips inches from his jawbone, "I promise."

"What makes you think I'll trust you?" he asked, tightening his hold on her. Kyouko's brown eyes flitted to his lips, then back to his eyes.

"Because, I entrusted myself to you," she answered. He closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. "That makes you responsible for me. But seeing as I feel like a horrible person for dumping myself on you, I was gonna make it easier."

"How so?"

"I get irritable when I'm hungry," she replied. Kyouya rolled his eyes.

"Really."

"Yes, _really_," Kyouko said, her tone slightly irritated. "Now, let me go."

He sighed again—he didn't really have a choice, did he?

Kyouya opened his eyes, and gathered her legs underneath her, before swinging them up into his arms, bringing her upper body up along with them. Kyouko squeaked—it was a rather cute noise, he had to admit—and wrapped her arms around his neck out of pure reflex, her eyes locking with his as he shifted her into a more comfortable place in the curves of his elbows. He wouldn't deny the fact that he couldn't stand his current situation. He didn't know what possessed him to scoop her up like this, but he couldn't stop the weakness surging through his veins.

Was this what it meant to hold a woman?

The red-haired girl's face flushed when their eyes met again, her hands cool on his shoulder, her skin soft, and coaxing against his. He looked back at her, his blue eyes narrowed, shadowed underneath his thick black bangs, his arms steady against her back and under her knees. The look in her amber eyes was toxic to him—he averted his gaze without a second thought, only to have her pull his face back to hers, and her eyes to peer into his, and her lips to reach for his. His eyes closed, but her lips didn't touch his.

She only whispered, "Are you _that_ afraid to be touched?"

He merely gazed back at her, level and even, his irises blank. She seemed to find what she was looking for, because she tightened her hold around his neck and hugged herself closer, lying her chin on his shoulder. He didn't resist her, but he didn't lean into her touch either. Her words held truth—he _was_ afraid, he _was_ scared to let her touch him in ways other than biting and fighting—he couldn't speak out against them. She was right, because he was scared to let her run her fingers across his face, kiss his lips, wrap her arms around him.

He was scared because he didn't understand the emotions flooding through him whenever she looked at him, whenever she so much as twitched a finger in his direction. He didn't feel invincible anymore—he felt _weak_, and he didn't understand it. It wasn't because he hadn't been able to finish off Rokudo Mukuro earlier, or because he'd seen the feigned extent of Kyouko's power, or even because she'd whispered so gently in his ear before he'd fought and very nearly lost. It was because he wanted to hear her voice in his ear again, because he wanted to see what she looked like underneath her clothes, without her undergarments hindering his sight.

He _wanted_ her, and it _terrified_ him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her words muffled by his clothes. She made a choked noise—it wasn't a sob, but not far from it—whispered helplessly, "I'm sorry."

"… This is my problem." The irony of that statement quirked the corners of his lips. He could've sworn her lips twitched at the sound of his voice as well. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Well, pitying each other ain't gonna help, is it?" she said, tightening her hold ever so slightly, as he shifted her in his arms. His eyes closed, and though every nerve ending in his body was screaming for him to drop her flat on her ass, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Just take me to get some food, Hibari. I'll go down quietly after that, I promise."

And so, he started down the hallway.

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: They tease each other too much in this, but the next bit I wanted to add onto it would've made it too long, so, again, I split it in half. Happy late Thanksgiving, readers of this story. And I'll be able to update this, just not frequently, unless I sacrifice my Study Halls.

**notes****2**: I still own _nothing_ (anime, characters, layout, etc.).


	12. of the stories you don't know

—

**twelve. **

—

Her heart was _still_ pounding even _after_ Kyouya put her down in the middle of the kitchen.

Was it because of the way her hands had impulsively reached for the sides of his face? Or because of the throbbing ache coiling itself deep, deep, deep down at the very center of her being, expanding its reach to the tips of her toes and to the very top of her skull? Kyouko didn't know, almost didn't want to know, because just as soon as the hungry look in his eyes had come—it had _aroused_ her, she later realized, after he'd pulled away from her grasp—just as quickly as the warm, fervent huff of his breath against her face had begun, he'd left her reach, leaving her alone at the center of the kitchen.

She had no clue how she was supposed to face Mami after this, and come out of _that_ conversation alive. She knew that once Mami found out that Kyouko had kissed Kyouya—on the _lips_, no less—the blonde Magical Girl would be using Kyouko as a billboard for target practice the next time the gunner wanted to exercise her magic. Kyouko wouldn't sit quietly, that's for sure, but she wouldn't be able to fight against Mami and win if the blonde was _serious_. And something told Kyouko that if the musket-wielder found out about Kyouko's kiss, she'd be serious as _hell_. That didn't bode well for both Kyouko, or Kyouya.

That didn't leave her many options. She supposed she could stay with Kyouya for the rest of the night, considering that it was at least ten o'clock—she confirmed this assumption with a flick of her head toward the sun dial in the corner—at night now. She couldn't wander the streets alone, and even if she wanted to, she knew that Kyouya wouldn't let her. At least without a good reason, she was sure. She knew her friends would be worried about her if she stayed any longer than she was—she could already imagine Sayaka barging out the door and taking to the sleeping town _just_ to find her, regardless of the danger to herself—but she didn't have a choice.

She sighed, and leaned up against the countertop just behind her, her arms still at her sides as she watched the raven-haired skylark pull out ingredients and flick his eyes across the backs, reading the directions, she assumed. The sight was so _not_ Kyouya-like that it almost made her laugh, and at a small squeak from her, Kyouya turned to face her, his blue eyes narrowed. She smirked back, and crossed her arms over her chest, taking a few steps toward him, gingerly testing her legs before moving at a normal, human pace.

Once she reached him, she said, "Lemme handle that. I can cook, Hibari."

"I am perfectly capable of cooking for myself," he responded, turning toward her with a glower. Kyouko sighed, and took the ingredients from him anyway, shutting the cabinet with her elbow and setting them down beside the stove: rice, small steaks, sauce? Kyouko lifted an eyebrow—just what was he making? "Sit down."

"What're you making?" she asked, turning toward him.

"What does it look like I'm making?" he replied, reaching for the ingredients again.

When Kyouko pulled them further from his reach, he took hold of her wrist to stop her, bringing her irises back up to his. There was nothing but _tension_ between them now—she could feel it in her veins, how much he wanted her, how much he craved the feel of her skin against his, just how potent his bloodlust was. To ease the heavy feeling in the air, she smirked, and scooped the materials up in her arms, before turning to the utensils and cooking materials. He moved without a word, taking a grittle from the wall and setting it down on the stove while Kyouko set her things down and reached for a steak knife, smoothly cutting the plastic protecting the steaks from the container holding them.

They worked in silence. It was almost a necessity, to Kyouko anyway. Now that she had the chance to analyze the depths of her feelings for him, and possible reasons why she'd kissed him after confronting Rokudo Mukuro, it was hard to talk to him. She couldn't look at his face without wanting more, without wanting to take his face, and ease the feverish ache in her heart. It had taken Kyouko by surprise—the kiss, she meant—the fact that she'd enjoyed it so much, even though she'd done it unconsciously. She barely remembered the entire event.

She just knew she'd said something to him—_"Yeah, I'll be safe with you."_—and everything else was blurry. The only reason she knew that she'd kissed him was because of the fact that even hours later, her lips were _still_ tingling. They hadn't stopped when she'd been unconscious, and they certainly hadn't stopped when she'd woken up to find herself in Hibari Kyouya's _house_. Just looking at him had dragged the blurry memory to the forefront of her mind, and made her dwell on it. She couldn't get it out of her head, and if she had to be honest with herself, it excited her. She'd never felt this way about a boy before, and even though she was a Magical Girl and she couldn't have relationships, this star-crossed lover thing going on between them made her feel _human_ again.

Made her feel like she was the Sakura Kyouko that lived before Rokudo Mukuro crushed her.

She took the pink chopsticks—Hibari Kyouya had _pink_ chopsticks?—Kyouya sat out for her, and started flipping the searing steaks, taking them one at a time, breathing in and out as she flipped them over. She could feel Kyouya's cobalt-silver eyes boring into her back, knowing that he'd noticed the drop in her mood, but despite the fact that she wanted to run, and hide, and put as much distance between them as she could (despite the fact that her body wanted the _exact_ opposite), she stayed where she was, cooking their food. She glanced at the pot he'd placed beside her elbow, peered into it, and rolled her head back.

"Is that supposed to be rice?" she asked, her brown eyes curious. Kyouya didn't respond, only held her phone out to her.

"They called again."

She blinked: "_Again_?"

"One of your herbivores called while you were unconscious," he replied, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Kyouko took the phone into her hands, and flipped it open, pushing a button or two to wake it up, before scanning her messages—_Homura_. "Your choice of alarm is rather irritating."

"I think you mean _ringtone_, Hibari," she corrected, handing the chopsticks to him. He cracked open his eyes, and gazed down at her skeptically. She waved her phone in one hand, and added, "I need to talk to her. Could you handle this for me? I'll be back in a minute or two, unless she decides to molest my ear."

He raised an eyebrow at her word choice, but nodded nonetheless. "I suppose."

Kyouko smiled, and brushed past him, her scarlet hair whistling through the air behind her as she walked toward the hallway. Once she made it safely out of earshot, she pushed _send_, and put the earpiece to her ear, waiting for Homura to pick up. She could hear the steaks sizzling just beyond where she stood in the middle of the hallway, the smell of seasoned meat wafting into her nose, rousing her stomach from sleep. She'd known she was hungry, but she'd never imagined that she was _this_ starved. Eating pocky for breakfast hadn't been the best idea, she surmised.

"_Kyouko, is that you?_" Kyouko smiled at the worried tone of voice speaking into her ear. She knew that Homura didn't like to admit it, but she tended to worry about others despite herself. Kyouko had once told her that it was in her nature, that she shouldn't bother fighting it since she does it instinctively, but Homura, as always, had refused. The stubborn bitch. "_Hello? Kyouko? Hibari-san?_"

So she _had_ talked to Kyouya. "Yo. It's Kyouko, Homura. What's up?"

"_What happened to you? Where are you? Are you uninjured?_" Kyouko leaned up against the wall, and sighed, closing her eyes.

"I'm fine, Homura. Just a little beat though—I used up a little too much energy fighting that bastard, and protecting my dumbass too," she replied, touching a palm to her forehead, "anyway, I'm at Hibari's house right now. I'm not strong enough to walk around freely yet. Hibari had to carry me down the hallway earlier."

"_I see. I wondered if that was the case._"

Kyouko took a breath, and continued: "In any case, I know for a fact that Mukuro's running around loose again. I fought him with Hibari earlier today while you were busy him-hauling your ass around Hanabusa Drive looking at seashells. He was using a puppet though, but he's back in action."

"_That's unfortunate._" She heard shuffling on the other line, the sound too light to be from human bodies moving, so she figured it was papers. "_I'll inform the others as soon as they return from their shifts. Also, I'll go looking for an extra Grief Seed as well—be sure to come home tomorrow, Kyouko._"

"Do you have any idea what the seashell is trying to say?" Kyouko asked, stopping her from hanging up. The shuffling paused for a moment. "As in clues, things it might be pointing to? You know, like a puzzle?"

Homura was silent for a moment. Then, she spoke again: "_The shell appears to be from a shellfish of some sort. It's ridged, with lines splitting the shell at perfectly spaced intervals. It's quite interesting._"

"Shellfish?" Kyouko cocked her head. "You mean like a clam?"

"_Exactly._"

Kyouko closed her eyes, and shook her head. "But why the hell would a _clam shell_ be in the middle of Hanabusa Drive? Clams live in the _ocean_, not in the suburbs, last I checked."

"_Those are my thoughts exactly._"

Kyouko smiled, and opened her irises again, turning toward the phone. "Well, if anyone can crack this case, it's gonna be you."

Homura laughed—it wasn't wholehearted, but it was still laughter. "_Thank you, Kyouko._"

Without a second thought, Kyouko hung up her cell phone, and started back down the hallway, setting her phone down on the counter. She shot Kyouya a glance, and without hesitation, or remorse, he shot her one back, despite not knowing what she was glancing at him for. If she were to be honest with herself, she wasn't entirely certain of why she'd looked at him in the first place—though, she couldn't deny that she certainly felt warmer now, as if gazing at his steady, level blue eyes gave her strength. She averted her brown eyes as she walked up to the raven-haired skylark, and took the rice spoon from him, and started stirring, leaving him to deal with the steaks.

She was sure they were making dinner all wrong, but she didn't care. Just having him close to her was enough to make her feel stronger, to make her feel like even the likes of Rokudo Mukuro couldn't touch her, even though they were so badly wounded from the _reunion_ earlier. She gritted her teeth at the memory of the feel of his deathperation flames caressing her skin as gently as they had before she'd left him, before he'd crushed her heart under his shoe, before she'd met Hibari Kyouya. She'd almost been unable to fight him—if it hadn't been for the need to protect Kyouya that had risen inside her, she'd of surrendered at some point during the fight.

She would've lost, or worse, been possessed.

At least, in theory. Mukuro had already tried to possess her, and failed. But Kyouko knew that was only because she had her enchantment magic to protect her mind back then, back when he'd taken her by surprise and cut her with his trident. But in the aftermath of the fight with Mukuro, she'd lost that shield, that resistance to anything that enchanted or affected the mind. Meaning, if he happened to try possessing her again, he wouldn't have any trouble taking her over, _especially_ with the way she was now. She wouldn't be Sakura Kyouko anymore. She'd be one of his puppets, like Ken, and Chikusa.

Her fist tensed at her side as blood dripped down the corner of her mouth. She couldn't become a puppet. She had Sayaka and Homura and Mami and Madoka to live for. She couldn't leave them behind now, not after nearly leaving them the first time. If it hadn't been for Sayaka, and her healing magic, Kyouko would've kicked the bucket by now. She owed it to Sayaka—who had almost become a Witch trying to restore the dying Kyouko—to keep living, to not leave everyone when she now knew how much she meant to them. She couldn't leave her friends behind. She couldn't afford to be possessed.

She couldn't afford to leave the ones she loved.

"Sakura Kyouko." She jolted out of her thoughts with a start, turning toward Kyouya with wide, vulnerable eyes. She watched him set the chopsticks down on the counter beside her phone, and lifted her gaze back to his eyes. He fixed her with a cold, harsh, inscrutable stare: "What exactly are you?"

"That's awfully _direct_, coming from you," she teased, flashing him a smug smile. He wasn't joking around.

"I don't like beating around the bush."

"Neither do I, so I'll cut to the chase," she replied, closing her eyes. She stirred the rice and pulled the pot from the stove, taking the pot holder lying just behind him, and in the process, brushing her fingers against his lower back. A small, slight tremor escaped his bones at her touch, but other than that, he was otherwise unaffected. Taking the steaks off, she spun around, her crimson ponytail swinging through the air behind her. "You won't believe a single word you want me to tell you."

"Try me."

She couldn't help but lick her lips at the suggestive undertone of his comment. "Really?"

"Really," he answered, his eyes braced, his voice even, his posture relaxed, but on guard. She could tell he knew she was planning on surprising him physically—was that because she'd kissed him without his permission, just threw herself at him without any thought as to how he'd feel afterwards?—and let her head hang.

"I can't tell you," Kyouko replied, shaking her head. He was in her breathing space before she could stop him.

"Tell me." There was silence for a moment before he added, "You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you _shit_!" she protested, exploding like a gun. "I saved you, and protected you, so don't pitch me that self-righteous bullshit!"

Kyouya was quiet for a moment, and when she realized that she'd raised her voice to him, she put a hand over her mouth, and leaned up against the counter, her eyes shaking. It wasn't necessarily that she'd raised her voice in his presence. It wasn't even the things she said, even though they were certainly uncalled for. She was just about to apologize when he calmly took the steaks from behind her in one hand, putting the rice in the other, and walking toward the table without so much as a backwards glance.

He was angry with her.

Kyouko sighed heavily, shakily, "I'm sorry, Hibari, I was just—"

"—Just _what_, Sakura Kyouko?" His blue eyes were burning, blazing, _flaming_ mad. Oddly enough, his voice didn't show it. "I don't appreciate tantrums in my own lodging, or anywhere for that matter."

"Hibari," she breathed, even as he set the food down on the table, and turned back around, walking toward her.

"So. You're going to tell me what you are." She blinked as a single, luminous tonfa glowed in the lights above their heads. "And if you raise your voice to me again, I'll bite you to death without hesitation, or remorse. _Do I make myself clear, herbivore?_"

Faced with that anger, and the violet tint of his tonfa, she couldn't answer him without stuttering on her words.

"_Speak_, herbivore."

And so, with no other option, she started talking.

—

It was a rough night for all of them. When Tomoe Mami learned the news that Sakura Kyouko had fallen into human hands, she was shocked, and scared. Kyouko wasn't the type to give up, or give up without a fight. The first thoughts that had made their way through her mind were these: Kyouko was killed, Kyouko was being held captive and therefore needed help escaping, and—though impossible, and foolish—Kyouko had willingly given herself to whomever was holding her captive. There was no other way to explain her disappearance. She had to have been captured.

But by whom was the question. And fortunately for Mami, Homura had an answer, though it wasn't exactly the answer Mami was expecting.

"Hibari Kyouya," Homura replied, her purple eyes soft, softer than pearls. Mami couldn't explain the look that had crossed Homura's face in that moment. There were no other ways to describe it besides affectionate, relieved, and grateful. "He's taking care of her for the night—she expended too much energy in the battle with Rokudo Mukuro."

_That _had put Mami on her toes. "Rokudo Mukuro?"

"Yes," Homura said, flipping through her papers as she smoothed the surface of her clam shell with her fingers. It was the same shell that Homura and Sayaka had found earlier in the day, on Hanabusa Drive. Mami knew it was simply because of the soft, gentle, prismatic luster sparkling just beneath Homura's Soul Gem ring. "I should've fought in her place. I knew she didn't have the capacity, but I led her straight to him, right into his hands. She doesn't have her enchantment magic anymore. What if he tried to possess her?"

It was a frightening question coupled with a guilt-ridden answer.

"We would've lost her," Mami answered, her tone softening, her eyes closing.

It was a terrifying, but incredibly likely prospect. Without Kyouko's wish magic to protect her, she was just as vulnerable as the rest of them. And knowing Kyouko, she wouldn't be able to stay away from Mukuro for long. Of course, Homura wasn't the only one that blamed herself. Mami knew she was also at fault for the loss of Kyouko's wish magic. All of them were—had it not been for the four of them falling into that trap, being tricked by the illusion of a Witch just lying outside of Madoka's purifying magic's range, Kyouko would still have her illusionary powers. She would still be able to stand on equal footing with Rokudo Mukuro, and therefore wouldn't be in danger.

But she didn't, so Kyouko was vulnerable to anything resembling illusions.

"The only thing we can do now," Homura whispered, folding her hands on her lap, fingering the inside of the clam shell with her fingertips, "is trust Hibari-san to protect her until her strength returns."

Mami didn't like it, but she couldn't deny that Hibari Kyouya had the ability to keep Kyouko safe. And she trusted Kyouko's judgment. If it was as Homura had said when Mami had walked into the door, that Kyouko had rushed to protect the skylark and fought against her mortal enemy without her wish magic and at risk of falling into Mukuro's possession, there must be something about Hibari Kyouya that Kyouko needed from him, something that could benefit all five Magical Girls. There must be something about him that gave Kyouko the thing she needed the most, other than strength.

Something that Mami, Sayaka, Homura, and Madoka couldn't give her, no matter how hard they tried.

"But he's _human_," Mami replied, her voice despaired, saddened. "I told her to keep her distance from him."

"He was in danger." Homura's tone was flat, dismissive. She was the only one who could take that tone with Mami and come out of that conversation alive and well. "It's a Magical Girl's duty to protect those that can't protect themselves. Isn't that what you taught her, Tomoe Mami?"

"But—"

"—Trust him," Homura interrupted, her violet eyes intense, burning with emotions. "We have no other option. We're running on only three Grief Seeds, and Kyouko's going to have to use one when she returns. We didn't stockpile enough before the Witches disappeared, so we can't move recklessly."

"Which means, we can't afford to waste our magic protecting humans," Mami responded, her yellow eyes glistening with tears. She hated sounding like that, she hated it with everything she had.

"That isn't like you, Tomoe Mami," Homura murmured, hanging her head, "but it's the truth."

And as much as Mami didn't like it, she couldn't deny that Homura was right.

—

"So. You're telling me that you're a member of the Magia family."

"Uh-_huh_."

"And that those lights I saw were flames."

"Yeah."

"In regards to that ring on your finger—it has the ability to stun and incapacitate the user's target."

"_Bingo_."

He wasn't sure if she was playing with him, or if she was actually telling him the truth. The latter seemed entirely impossible, because in the expanse of his time with—God, did he _hate_ that word—the Vongola, never before had he heard of the Magia family. It wasn't an unlikely story, though, because he knew that there were more less well-known Mafia families that he had never heard of, some of which were allied with his own thanks to Sawada Tsunayoshi and his yielding personality. They hadn't even inherited the Vongola quite yet, and Tsunayoshi had managed to coerce families into joining with him.

It was impressive, to say the least.

But in regards to Kyouko's blatant lie, Kyouya wasn't impressed. Rather, he was annoyed. "Don't be stupid. Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth," Kyouko said. "I'm a part of the Mafia."

There was no way in hell that she understood the meaning of what she had _just_ said. "You're not."

"I am," she argued, holding up her ring.

It was silver in color, with a single, red ruby at the center of the body. Of course, he knew that her ring could pass off as one of the ones that channeled and emitted deathperation flames—in her case, _Storm_ specifically—but he knew that Storm flames didn't have the characteristic of rendering a target incapable of movement. That would be Rain, and her ring wasn't azure. Her ring was crimson, the color of Storm. His eyes fell upon the small, scarlet ellipse painted onto her fingernail, and he frowned at it.

Just what did that symbol mean?

No. The better question would be just what exactly was Sakura Kyouko, and what was she after? She was incredibly strong, with the way she wielded her spear and fought against Rokudo Mukuro earlier. She'd pushed him back several times, held him beneath her with hardly any effort. Kyouya couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to bite her to death himself, but somewhere deep in his mind, he was almost… _threatened_ by her strength. What if she made him her target? Would he be strong enough to fend her off? Would he be able to stop her should she revolt against his order?

And judging by the result from the battle today, the answers to those questions were less than favorable.

It wasn't like Kyouya to doubt himself, but he couldn't help but feel ashamed, and disappointed in his current level of strength. He _had_ to get stronger, had to fight and bite stronger people, to prove to himself and others that he truly was capable, and able to hold his own battle. He had to, because his pride was currently hanging in the balance. He had to find Mukuro, and fight him again. And once he'd finished sending the pineapple bastard to hell, he would do with Sakura Kyouko as he pleased. He would savor every moment of her destruction, enjoy the sounds of her screams and the scent of her blood with every fiber of his being. He would destroy her, and regret nothing afterwards.

She'd interfered with his life for long enough.

The red-haired girl crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. "What's with that look, Hibari? You're staring."

"… Stop talking," he muttered, raising his tea cup to his lips. He would bite her to death, but Rokudo Mukuro came first. "It's supposed to be silent during mealtime."

"You're the one that started interrogating me _during mealtime_," she mocked, taking a sip from her drink as well. She set her cup down, and turned toward the hallway, her brown eyes longing, wistful. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"

"Do not speak to me," he replied, knowing it was futile. She couldn't keep her mouth shut even if she tried. He was abruptly reminded of the moments prior to her kissing him, the seconds in between Kyouko and Mukuro's exchanges of blows. Kyouko narrowed her eyes, and threaded her fingers through her ponytail, and giving her hair a disgusted look.

"I need a shower. Now."

"That would require me to leave my food, and I do not intend to do so."

Kyouko sighed. "Well, hurry up. I'm filthy."

"Be quiet," he ordered. She snorted, and tensed her arms against her chest—_breasts_, if Kyouya wanted to be specific—glancing all around the room, avoiding locking gazes with him as he ate in perfect silence. Meanwhile, Kyouko was shifting, making more noise than she could if she was talking. It was absolutely annoying, and irritating, and Kyouya couldn't take it for much longer. Thankfully, he had just finished his rice, and steaks, so he rose from his seat, barking, "Put your dirty dishes into the sink and follow me."

Kyouko, ecstatic to finally be able to clean herself, jumped from her spot and happily picked up her dishes, "_Finally_, it took you like, _forever_ to finish eating."

She couldn't get any more selfish, could she?

After depositing his dirty dishes into the sink and watching her put hers into it, he said, "You will be washing these before you leave my house. Understand?"

"Oh, drop the gloom-and-doom act, Hibari, we'll do them together," she chirped, swaying back and forth on her feet. It was by instinct, and instinct alone that he reached for her, not because he wanted to, or because he was obligated to keep her out of trouble. "Wow, Hibari, your hands are soft!"

He blinked—wait, she wasn't…

"What did you drink, Sakura Kyouko?" he asked, not missing a beat. Kyouko, despite being emotionally unstable, managed to point out the tea cabinet over his shoulder with her trembling hand. Carefully pulling her with him, he walked across the kitchen and opened up the cupboard, and almost exploded at the sight in front of him. "_That_ _idiot boxer_."

"Huh? Who's dat?" There was no question now. She was drunk, and underage. Of all the things that Kyouya had to deal with, it'd be a drunk woman. Of course. "Hibari, I wanna shower. Can you take me dere, on yer back?"

"_Stop talking_," he said for what felt the thousandth time that night. "I will show you were the bathroom is. But I will _not_ carry you."

"Not _carry_. I said piggy-back, Hibari, _piggy-back_!"

No. Just no.

Just stop talking.

"Why would I do something as ridiculous as that?" he asked, turning toward her. He wasn't ready for her throw her arms around his neck and leap up against him—he caught her under the knees on reflex, holding her still, but also occupying his hands with holding her against him—her face came incredibly close to his, her red bangs melding with his black ones, pushing them back, combining with them. His voice came out relatively surprised, "Sakura Kyouko."

"'Cause ya love me, don'cha?" she replied, her breath filled to the brim with the scent of sake, and something stronger. Just what had Sasagawa Ryohei hidden in his cabinet? "C'mon, be honest wi'me, _Hi-ba-ri_, ya know ya do."

In response, he released her knees, and let her fall right to the floor on her ass.

Served her right for asking him such a _disgusting_ question.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" he asked, his eyes burning, his hands tensed around his tonfas. The red-haired girl merely gazed up at him, her legs bent at the knees in front of her, her hands braced at her sides, her yukata just barely parted—her skin was so temptingly pink, he almost couldn't help himself (and he wouldn't have had he not been angry)—faced the alluring look in her eyes, he bit out, "Don't you _dare_ suggest something that herbivorous again."

Her face flushed an earnest rose, but she didn't say anything.

Maybe by dropping her on her ass, she'd regained some common sense and remembered just _who _exactly she was dealing with.

Then:

"_Hi-ba-ri_ _Kyou-ya_ _loves_ _Sa-ku-ra_ _Kyou-ko_!"

It was bad enough that she'd said it the first time. It was bad enough that she'd even thought to say it, to his _face_ no less, but she didn't stop with just one time. No, she chanted it over and over again, kicking her feet against the floor like an excited child, laughing and giggling as if on some gateway drug he'd never heard of. Kyouya couldn't even form a proper response to the sight that lay—or rather, _sat_—before him. He was shocked that she would be so audacious and persistent in a drunken state, which made her even more interesting.

But he could smell her drunken state begin to fade.

If he got her into the shower, maybe…

"Get off the floor, Sakura Kyouko." Obediently, she rose, bouncing up like a shot, before falling in step with Kyouya's brisk pace. He was hoping that having her wash herself off would get rid of the sake in her system. He knew it was a long shot, but he was hoping it'd work. He didn't like Kyouko when she was intoxicated, never mind the fact that she was underage. Then again, so was he, _and_ Sasagawa Ryohei.

He would bite the idiot boxer to death later.

—

"_Aaahh_, that feels _so_ damn good!" Kyouko sighed, raising her arms above her head as warm water soaked her to the bone.

She didn't remember anything prior to getting to the shower, but she didn't really care. The warmth of the shower blazing into her muscles and flowing through her long—but now clean—scarlet hair was the only thing that mattered to her. Even the fact that she didn't have anything clean to change into didn't matter, even though it should've. She was sure that she could chill with a towel on while she waited for her clothes to be washed and dried, in the bathroom, obviously. She didn't want to let Kyouya see anything more of her, considering the fact that he'd _stripped and changed her_ without her permission.

Washing her face, and running the removable shower head over the crest of her bangs to get rid of the soap bubbles remaining from the shampoo she'd washed her hair with, she smiled into the continuous stream of water washing her exhaustion away, and sighed once more. City water couldn't possibly compare to Kyouya's water. It smelled like outdoors, like fresh flowers and bright, open sky. Maybe it was because she was thinking of Kyouya himself while she was rinsing off.

Her face flushed—_not_ while she was in the shower, _naked_.

"Sakura Kyouko."

Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands. "W—What? Can't it wait 'til I'm not in the shower?"

"I can't keep the heater running for much longer. Hurry up."

It was just like Kyouya to be impatient. And Kyouko was one to talk. "Wait, do you have anything for me?"

"Your clothes are drying," he replied, his tone flat. "Don't waste hot water."

"I'm not!" she protested, tightening her arms around herself. Her palms flattened against her chest, before sighing. "Look, it's not like I'm not grateful for this, you know."

"I never said you weren't." That was uncharacteristically gentle, and soft, coming from him. Kyouko breathed out, and went back to cleaning every inch of her body, before fumbling around for conditioner. When she came up with none, she blew out against her heavy, soaked red bangs. Her hair would be coarse come morning. "It's been ten minutes. Get out."

"W—What the hell!" Kyouko exclaimed, her brown eyes flashing toward the door. It didn't open, even though it was currently taking Kyouya's weight. Was he leaning his back on it? She couldn't tell, but regardless, she flipped the water off, and stood up from the stool she was seated on, reaching for her towel and wrapping it around herself as she stepped back up onto the carpeted space in front of the dip in the floor. "Hibari, I'm done. But don't come in, okay?"

"… Hn."

She couldn't tell if he was going to adhere to her request, or just come charging in despite her wishes. She could never tell with him. She didn't understand how his mind worked, but she knew which buttons to push and how hard to push them. She didn't know what made him the way he was, she didn't understand how someone could be so rigid and uptight but be so good-looking and interesting at the same time. He was truly an enigma. But that's what drew her to him in the first place. That, and the fact that he was handsome.

Kyouko rubbed the towel against her legs, gliding up her torso, her chest, her arms. She flinched when her wet hair grazed her lower back as she leaned over, cold water droplets falling to the backs of her thighs as she dried off. She heard shifting against the door, and blinked, glancing up at it, and flushing bright red in horror as the knob turned, the wooden square opening just seconds later. She barely managed to stand up and wrap the towel around herself before the door opened, revealing an irritated and impatient Hibari Kyouya to her sight.

There was a good two minutes of silence between them before she gasped out, "Hibari."

His eyes flickered down to her _naked _legs, torso, the modest swells barely covered by the hem of her towel. She knew what he was thinking, and why. After being with him for so long, she'd learned how to read his _body_ as he'd learned to read hers. But even after everything they'd gone through, he'd _never _stared at her so intently before. This was something completely different from the glares and smirks she'd received from him.

This was predatory, and carnivorous, and kinda _sexy_.

Kyouko's entire body swelled with heat, even as her chest tightened in the steam drifting through the air.

"Your clothes are dry," he said, tossing the clothes onto the floor just in front of her. She glanced down at them, before returning her gaze back to him. It was almost strange. He hadn't shut the door yet, in fact, it was wide open.

She couldn't get her mind off of it. The huskiness of his tone, the lust in his eyes, the hunger sitting proudly upon his features brought Kyouko back to herself. She had a feeling—a _burning_, _stabbing_ one—that suggested that he might _want_ to see what she looked like underneath all of her clothes. Her girl-friends already knew what she looked like—she hadn't wanted to show _them_, it was an inescapable threat that came with living together. But she wanted to show _him_ what she looked like. She wanted to so much, but not this way, especially since she'd just taken a shower.

"Okay," she whispered, starting to loosen her towel. Kyouya's eyes fell upon the way she shifted within the trappings of the falling fabric, how her long scarlet hair swayed across the graceful curve of her back. Kyouko released the edges of the towel, and let it drift to the floor. "I'll get dressed when you shut the door. I don't want you watching me, so turn around."

"_Wao_." As he spoke, his lips curved upward into a hungry smirk, one of the ones that sent chills running up and down her spine, in _that_ way. She had a feeling what was coming next. She had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back this time.

Nevertheless, she stood, reaching downward for her clothes and beginning to peel them on, one at a time. Her eyes never left his as she got dressed, watching the hunger and temptation shift across his eyes. She blinked her eyes shut as she pulled the yukata—it was still warm against her skin—on across her chest, tying the belt around her midsection and shaking out her sleeves. She pulled her hair clip and ribbon from the counter top and tied her hair up in a messy bun, having no other option, since he didn't have a hair brush or a hair dryer.

Locks of luminous scarlet hair fell into her eyes as she lifted her face to look at him. "I'm all done."

"… Hn." She picked up her towel and hung it up, before walking past him out the door, turning to face him with one eye before watching him close the bathroom door behind him, disappearing into the steam flowing through the door.

The moment she heard the removable shower head start to spit water out, she sighed, and sank to the floor, her head in her hands. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stuttering against her ribs, and her breathing rate was significantly slower than before the entire incident had happened. She knew she was just overreacting, that the fact that he'd stood there and watched her get dressed wasn't a big deal. Sayaka had gotten dressed in the same room with her countless times. And it's not like they weren't naked underneath all of the glitter when they transformed.

So, why was she so embarrassed and stirred at the memory of Kyouya watching her dressing herself?

She needed sleep. That's all there was to it. She needed to sleep this entire thing away, because come morning, she wouldn't remember a thing anyway. She wouldn't think about it, because she'd have to face Mami when she got back home. She swallowed at the thought of facing the blonde when she'd walk through her door. It wouldn't be a fun event, that was for sure. Especially since the gunner had told Kyouko not to go anywhere near Kyouya, and yet Kyouko had disobeyed her orders. She'd done it for a good cause though, which would be her primary argument, but she wasn't sure if Mami would believe her.

The blonde had the tendency to be stubborn, if not impossible.

Kyouko slid open the door to the room she found most familiar, and stepped into it, pulling her ribbon and hair clip from her hair, and tossing her head, the long locks tumbling down her back. She paused at the small, low-lying desk that Kyouya had been sitting at little over a few hours ago, and smiled, gazing down at the mongatari lying flat against the desktop. She turned to the futon, and knelt down, pulling the sheets from the mattress, and slid into it, setting her ribbon and hair clip down on the desk beside the monogatari.

It wasn't long after that that the red-haired girl drifted off to sleep.

—

Of course, _nothing_ had prepared him for this.

It was like he'd just gotten out of the frying pan and fallen right in the fire: lying flat on his futon, was Sakura Kyouko, her arms back, without a single care. The sheets weren't covering her up well, or she'd thrown them from her own, for he could see her skin fairly well through the thinner, lighter covers underneath the heaviest one. She was breathing steadily, her chest rising and falling within the confines of her yukata, her lips gently parted, her bangs sprawled across her forehead in messy bundles. She looked so peaceful, enticing, and _beautiful_ that he almost turned around and headed back for the living room to sleep on the couch.

But then again, he was Hibari Kyouya, and he was invincible to things as herbivorous as _desire_ and _lust_.

Sure he was, until he met Sakura Kyouko, with all of her fire and avariciousness.

Her hunger was so potent that it was sinking its fangs into him, drawing his own from where he'd crushed it long before he'd met her. She was reviving the human heart that lay inside him, she was making him weaker, and softer, and he didn't like it. But he couldn't stop it from happening, and he didn't understand it. He didn't know why he all of a sudden wanted to hold and kiss someone. He'd never wanted something as disgustingly herbivorous as that. He didn't need lust, or love, or emotions in general. Only the ones that made him strong were acceptable.

So, when he knelt down at his side of the futon and slid into it beside her, he rolled over onto his side, and tried his best to fight the emotions rising inside him. It was a futile battle, but he managed to win in the end, if only because he was tired, and sleepy. His eyes slid shut, and the only thing he could hear was his own heart beating, as well as the sounds of Kyouko's chest rising and falling with each of her breaths. It was calming, the sounds in the room, and he eased much easier into sleep, breathing out over his lips.

"Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: Hey everyone, I'm back with a longer update. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I still own _nothing_.

**notes2**: _Magia_ is an Italian word for _magic_. I thought that since the Mafia is primarily based in Italy, I'd stick with an Italian word for what Kyouko decided to call her, uh, flock of herbivores. It's also the name of a song by Kalafina, which serves as the ending for Puella Magi Madoka Magica.

**notes3**: _Monogatari_ is a or the Japanese word for _story_. They're a literary form of traditional Japanese literature (tying into Hibari's whole traditional Japanese home thing he's got going on), kinda like an epic (like the Odyssey, or the Illiad) in terms of extended narration. _Monogatari_ also happens to be one of my favorite Japanese words.


	13. of girlish fetishes and lambent light

—

**thirteen. **

—

There were things that Kaname Madoka knew she should, and should not do. She was a good girl: she never lied to anyone, she never did bad things, she always went to school on time, always was home well before curfew. She never had felt the need to do bad things, or hurt others, even _after_ she became a Magical Girl. It wasn't in her nature to hurt or harm others, and most certainly not allow others to do so either—hence, when Rokudo Mukuro had spread his influence into Mitakihara Town; she'd instantaneously cloaked the town in her purifying magic to keep his darkness out. But by doing so, she'd destroyed the Witches within her magic's reach, and caused problems for all of the other Magical Girls living near Madoka and her friends.

It was a necessary sacrifice, because if Mukuro had gotten his hands on even _one_ of them—aside from Kyouko, at the time, who still had her enchantment magic—he'd have an extraordinary power at his fingertips, _especially_ if he learned how to tame a Witch (which, as far as Homura could figure and calculate based on experience and prior knowledge, was _impossible_). Of course, Madoka still felt terrible for destroying the Witches and depriving the Magical Girls of their power source, the Grief Seeds, but when Mami had suggested that they move away from Mitakihara Town and settle somewhere her magic's reach couldn't touch, she had felt relieved.

Until, they'd discovered that there were no Witches in Namimori either.

It was hard, starting out. Naturally, Mami had laid down the ground rule to not use any more magic than necessary. That hadn't been a problem for Kyouko, because she was still traumatized by the battle with Mukuro, and Sayaka, who'd used her healing magic to bring Kyouko back from the brink of death, hadn't had much of a problem with the rule either. After a while, Madoka had missed the weightlessness of using her magic, the way she could glide from the rooftops, gaze up at the sky and feel beautiful in the sunshine. She hadn't been able to remind herself that she was magical, that she was beautiful, that she was a knight for justice, just like the rest of them.

And that's why, now, she couldn't quite give up that memory with Sawada Tsunayoshi.

She wasn't in love with him, no, she didn't have a crush on him either. She knew her cheeks had tended to grow hot whenever he had looked at her, or smiled at her, or something remotely close to kindness. She hadn't even _meant_ to bump into him, she'd just been wandering the town on her shift (she'd been searching around Hanabusa Drive for more clues into the clam shell Homura and Sayaka had found the day before), when she'd bumped into and knocked over the boy on his way home from the park. She'd bowled him over, quite comically, actually, and braced herself with her hands beside his head and held herself over him, gazing into his caramel eyes.

She'd seen strength, light, _hope_.

Thinking about it now, in the safety of the penthouse, she couldn't shake the feel of his hands reaching up to touch her scraped elbows. It had hit her all at once, this feeling of warmth, and heat, and Madoka wasn't sure if she was herself, if she was fully, solidly, _kaname madoka_. She threaded her fingers through her strawberry-colored hair—it was longer than before, reaching to the center of her back, not quite as long as Homura or Kyouko's, but longer than Sayaka's and Mami's—and parted her bangs from her eyes, analyzing each crevice of the cerise irises.

Nothing was different.

She was Kaname Madoka alright.

Of course, Sayaka had to walk into the bathroom just as Madoka was peeling off her clothes to take a late morning shower. "Hey, Madoka. I'm up for my shift, right?"

"S—Sayaka-chan!" Madoka exclaimed, holding her clothes against her body to cover herself. Sayaka noticed the pink-haired girl's state of nudity, and blushed, sputtering out incoherent noises as she spun around, shielding her eyes. Madoka could've sworn that she heard the word _sorry_ come out of the bluenette's mouth, and sighed. "Yes, Sayaka-chan, it's your shift. Homura-chan's going out with you again—I have to be here to help Kyouko-chan when she comes back."

"I thought Mami-san was going to do that?"

Madoka closed her eyes. "She has a recording session for her next CD."

"Oh. Are you sure it's not just 'cause she's mad at Kyouko or something?"

Madoka cocked her head, and blinked—Mami, _mad_ at Kyouko?

"Why would she be angry with Kyouko-chan?" Madoka asked, turning to Sayaka, and brushing her pink hair back from her eyes. The blue-haired girl stretched her hands over her head, and rolled her head back to Madoka. It was such a _Sakura Kyouko_ move that Madoka almost sent a telepathic message to the red-haired girl. Knowing Kyouko, she was still probably asleep, and wouldn't receive the message. And even if she did, she _wouldn't_ be happy about being woken up. "She wasn't doing anything wrong, was she?"

Then, Sayaka smirked.

"You remember Hibari-san, right?"

Madoka nodded eagerly. "Yes, I remember him. What does he have to do with this, though, if I may ask?"

"She's at his house right now."

At first, it didn't connect in Madoka's head. Being innocent (Homura was partly to blame for this—she never let the fiery Kyouko teach Madoka about the wonders of human attraction when they'd all came of age) as she was, she didn't understand the implication that came along with being over at a boy's house overnight—at least she was _assuming_, that was progress, she knew Kyouko would be proud—never mind what it _meant_. But, after a few moments, Madoka's face flushed bright, beet red.

"You mean, Kyouko-chan's… not a…"

Sayaka smirked wider. "Maybe, maybe not. I highly doubt that she'd let him go any further than first base, considering how often she bluffs."

"She… bluffs?" Madoka was still scarred, dazed by the knowledge that Kyouko might not be… she couldn't even think it without throwing her face into her hands and shaking her head. Sayaka tapped her fingertips against her bottom lip.

"And, she's not really the affectionate type. I mean, kissing's okay, for her at least, but I dunno about him. He seems kinda withdrawn, you know?" Madoka sighed.

It was true. Hibari Kyouya did seem somewhat withdrawn, and aloof, and quiet, but Madoka could see strength in his eyes too. There was power in his stance, in his irises that she knew would keep Kyouko close to him—besides, Kyouko always seemed to like the cold, aloof types anyway—and him close to her. If Madoka had to be honest, Kyouko and Hibari made a good, if not _odd_, couple. Madoka was willing to bet that if Kyouko and Hibari ever got together, they'd support and complement each other fairly well in regards to personalities. Kyouko was more open, earnest, and spirited than Hibari was, but Kyouko always had a way of rubbing off on others.

Maybe she'd open him up.

Thinking about Kyouko and her love life made thinking about Sawada Tsunayoshi an almost _definite_ possibility. It was hard not to imagine those brown eyes, wide, and open underneath her pink ones, their mouths so close together, the smell of his warm breath on her face. It had been an _accident_, and yet something good had come of it. She'd met someone that gave her strength, someone that was kind, and even though she'd done him wrong by bumping into him, still treated her nicely. She forced herself not to think about how he'd followed her on her shift, how he'd showed her around the area where Homura and Sayaka had found the clam shell—all the while being pale-faced while he did so—and how he'd walked her back to the penthouse afterwards.

She was becoming more like Kyouko, in regards to breaking the rules when it came to boys: Madoka wanted to see Tsunayoshi again, soon.

"What're you blushing about, Madoka?" Sayaka asked, poking at the side of Madoka's face. "Oh! Don't tell me you've met someone!"

"Well…"

A mischievous grin crossed Sayaka's face. "Now, you've got to spill. Just tell me what he looks like, at least. Please, Madoka? I'm dying to know here."

"But it's against the rules to like someone," Madoka replied, hanging her head, "and I don't like him like that. I just met him earlier today. I bumped into him and knocked him over."

Sayaka's eyes brightened: "Smooth, Madoka."

"I didn't see him when I turned the corner—I had my Soul Gem out!" Madoka protested, defending herself. Sayaka sighed.

"It's fine, it's fine. Now, tell me what he looks like."

Madoka pondered how to put it. "Well, he has brown eyes, brown hair, and… a nice smile, I guess."

Sayaka smiled.

"You're going to have to take me to meet him."

—

Kyouko had to admit: she'd slept pretty well. It wasn't because she had Kyouya sleeping beside her, or because it was warm under the bed sheets, or because the sound of the bamboo stick tapping the rock outside the room was soothing and calming enough to send her tumbling into sleep without a moment's hesitation. It was just a good night's sleep. Such a good night, that the waking-up part had to up and ruin it all. Kyouko had to _love_ karma sometimes—it always pays the bitch back with interest, according to Kyouko herself.

And boy, did karma cook up an _interesting_ situation for her this time.

She was pressing her chest up against his back, her arms wrapped around his own. She twitched her fingers against his collarbone, hoping that the movements would get her hands back under her control. Her face was buried in his shoulder, and her eyes, though still sleepy, peered just over the ridge connecting his neck to his body, Kyouya's thick, black hair tickling the left side of her face. She had to close her left eye against the skylark's hair just to be able to see properly—though it wasn't all bad, at least it smelled good. She turned her nose into its raven-colored cocoon, and inhaled deeply, exhaling against the side of his head. She was surprised when he didn't wake up.

He was still snoring lightly, his back rising and falling against her chest. She could feel his lungs filling, and emptying against her own, and sighed her breaths across his shoulder blades, hesitant to move at all. She didn't want to wake him up, but she was _aching_ for a kiss right now. Though, she knew she couldn't, because he'd kick her out. She supposed that she wouldn't be able to get a kiss on the lips from him, but any other part of his body was just as good. So, she leaned her face toward his temple, reaching up from the pillow with her left hand and cupping his cheek with it, and pushing her lips to his right temple, heedless of the bundles of onyx-hued hair strewn across it.

She wondered why he wasn't waking—he was the lightest sleeper she'd ever seen, why _wasn't_ he waking?

Still, she didn't exactly want to _leave_ this comforting setting, or feeling of security, so she settled back down, lying her nose in his hair and inhaling once again, before closing her eyes and drifting in his scent, and presence, and strength, and warmth. It was almost like she was molded against him, like every line and curve of her body fit seamlessly into his. She couldn't move, she was so relaxed where she was that she didn't want to, even though she knew she had to. He'd wake up, and notice the situation they were in, and kick her out.

It wasn't long after that that he shifted underneath her nose, and mouth, adjusting his position against her, before falling back into light, quiet snoring. She wondered if he ever slept this well, or if because he took frequent naps on the roof of Namimori High School that he didn't need to. She was sleeping better here than she did back at the penthouse, which shocked her, and didn't shock her at the same time. He snored, yes, but it was much, _much_ quieter than Sayaka's bleating through the walls into Kyouko's ears. It was quieter, and soothing, too. She didn't quite understand why she found it calming, but she was sleeping soundly beside him even though he was snoring.

A low, gentle, but sleepy growl sounded close to her lips: "What time is it?"

"What took you so long, Skylark?" she asked, smiling into his hair, her honey-colored eyes affectionate when he turned his head to gaze at her. It was a soft, gentle, delicate look—one that Kyouko would've mistaken for _affectionate_ had his cobalt-silver eyes not been clouded and sleepy—one that kept her still, didn't move her, didn't allow her to breathe. His chin touched her shoulder as he peered over her, glancing at the clock.

"I'm late."

Kyouko turned her head toward him. "For what? There's no school today, Hibari. You—or, both of us—have off today."

"Just because school isn't in session doesn't mean I can shirk my duties as Disciplinary Committee Chairman," he replied, pulling out of her grasp. She let him go, albeit reluctantly, and rolled back over, listening to him yawn into his palm, then stand up from the futon. She wasn't sure what she should be doing—she couldn't stare, couldn't talk, couldn't ask questions—and decided to stay where she was, keeping silent as he went about his daily routine. "You're not staying here."

"I know," she answered, sighing, and getting up too. She straightened out her yukata, and ran her fingers through her messy, damp hair, before putting her hands on her hips and closing her eyes. "But still, you don't have to wake up at nine in the morning on a holiday. It's just not natural."

He gave her an odd look.

"Look, how 'bout this?" she suggested, taking a few steps toward him until her toes grazed his. He frowned underneath the thick, unkempt mess that was his bangs—Kyouko reached up and brushed them back, her fingers lingering at the side of his face, "You and I go to the arcade today for… say, an hour or two. Then, since I have to go back to the penthouse, you drop me off on your way to wherever you're going. That way, you get what you want, and I get what I want."

Kyouya didn't answer for a moment. Kyouko almost figured that it meant_ rejection_, and sighed.

Then: "I suppose I'll indulge you. However, this won't become a habit—I have no intention of doing this with you ever again."

"Oh relax, Hibari, it's not like I'm that bad," Kyouko said, lowering her hand. "'Sides, you're getting attached to me. You didn't leave me lying out in the middle of nowhere."

"Your body would've cluttered up the sidewalk."

"But why_ here_, though? Why not to the hospital, or some other place where you, I don't know, take unconscious people, normally?"

And then, Kyouya did something completely unexpected: he_ blushed_.

It wasn't a bright, beaming red blush either. It was a soft, gentle, but cute burst of color that lasted about three seconds. It was as if Kyouya had realized that she had gotten to him, or that the thought that had crossed his mind in that moment was traitorous enough to betray his good judgment. Signal number one: he was blushing in front of her. Kyouko licked her lips, and smirked, her auburn eyes beginning to glow. Oh, hell, she was going to have _so_ much fun with this little boy, starting with the fact that he hadn't pushed her away when she'd kissed him that first time.

He blushed again when she lifted her eyes to his. "_You_," he snarled.

"Yeah?" It was carefree, smug, and satisfied.

"What did you _do_ to me?" Kyouko's fingertips twitched at her sides, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. It was almost hilarious how clueless he was. She was rolling on the floor laughing inside herself. She barely contained the rush of laughter that bubbled to her lips in the next moment. "_Sakura Kyouko_."

She had to admit, it must be taking balls to face her with his face as adorably pink as it was.

"Is this another one of your tricks?" She stepped to him, and fisted his shirt with her hand, pulling him downward until they were nose-to-nose.

"Nope," she said, popping her answer back at him, "this is all _you_."

"How—"

"—Seriously?" she asked, rolling her eyes, "are you _that_ stupid? Wait, that came out wrong. Are you just_ that_ innocent that you_ don't know_ what's going on with you?"

He did something else that was unexpected: he _turned away_.

"I'm not," he muttered, "_stupid_."

"But you still don't know, do you?" When he didn't reply, she reached up with her hands, and turned his face back to hers, looking him in the eye, without hesitation. He didn't fight her hold—resisted looking at her eyes though—but he didn't pull away from her. With a sigh, she touched her forehead to his. "It's okay, Hibari. Blushing's completely normal. Kissing's also normal—"

"—_Stop talking_," he interrupted. She curved her lip up on reflex. "Just _stop_ talking."

"Oh please, a kiss is just a way of saying _thank you_." Her fingertips touched her lips, her face beginning to flush, _okay, that's a lie_. "Well… that one meant thank you, at least."

Silence.

Then: "You were thanking me?"

_Holy shit, he can look __**cute**__ too. _

"Yeah. What'd you _think_ I was doing?" she asked, cocking her head.

His sheepish—well, as close to sheepish as Hibari Kyouya could get without looking like a little girl—expression shifted to one of vulnerability: his eyes were wider than normal, his mouth gently parted, his hands still, loose, quiet at his sides. She wondered if he'd never experienced anything as mundane as being _thanked_ before, of if he was just that ignorant to the ways of society. She placed her hand back on his face, and swept her fingertips down his cheek to take hold of his chin lightly, gently, delicately—she didn't want him to run away from her.

"Don't tell me you've never been thanked before?" He blinked, his cobalt-silver eyes suddenly deadly serious, and Kyouko sighed. "Jeez, what is it with you? It's like curve ball after curve ball. Seriously, it's like you've never gone to school before or somethin'."

"Hn."

She reluctantly released his face, and stepped back. "So, what're we gonna do?"

His eyes fell to her lips.

"F—For b—b—breakfast, I m—m—mean," she stuttered, blushing bright, beaming red. She swung around, and tugged on the belt of her yukata, not hesitating to start peeling her clothes off. At the sharp inhalation of breath behind her, she tossed back, "Oh, and unless you wanna see me without clothes on, could you step outside for a second? I've got to get dressed."

"So do I."

Kyouko flushed. "Not in here you won't be."

A pale, slender hand touched her shoulder.

"I don't intend to watch you." It was spoken as if the sound of his voice would be enough to calm her down. Kyouko didn't understand why she was freaking the freak out in the first place. He already knew what she looked like under all of her clothes, so why bother with formalities?

That's 'cause in her own twisted way, Sakura Kyouko was a sensible, and earnest female.

"Where're my clean clothes, Hibari?" she asked, tempted to lean into his palm. He pulled at her shoulder blade with his fingertips—it took everything in her to bite back the breathless gasp threatening to escape her. "Seriously."

"Use your eyes, Sakura Kyouko," he answered, lowering his voice. She glanced around, and, noting the blue vest folded above her favorite red-white pleated skirt, nodded, turning to Kyouya and offering a smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, watching him pull his sleepwear off—her face promptly flushed bright, beet red. She couldn't get her eyes to move from staring at his chest—_of all the things you're gonna get caught doing, Kyouko, staring is so not classy._ As if by clockwork, Kyouya noticed her glued amber eyes, and lowered his hands; his shirt bundled in his palms.

"Is there something on my face?" His tone was almost teasing. She jerked her head up, her long red hair tumbling over the slope of her backside with the sudden movement. She was vaguely aware of the fact that her hair was messy, that her bangs were sprawling over her forehead in somewhat of a sexy but unkempt style that no matter how hard she could try, she'd never be able to recreate. Facing his sidelong glance, she blushed modestly.

"No," she replied, pulling her skirt on, before pulling her bra onto her chest a moment later. She noticed the hurried flicker of Kyouya's irises as he averted his eyes to the other direction. Kyouko pulled her undergarments on, and settled her shirt against her chest, buttoning it up and securing her tie around her neck. She left a few buttons open to let herself breathe, but she was covered now. "I'm done; you don't have to hide that look on your face anymore."

It was a few more moments before he turned around. But when he did, she was running her fingers through her cowlick-ridden hair, and tossing it, her amber eyes closed. She opened her eyes, and watched his expression grow hungrier and hungrier—it was almost unsettling how intently he was looking at her. She couldn't help but think of the night before, the bathroom, her being completely naked in front of him, his eyes practically devouring the slopes of her hips, chest, hourglass waist. She was sure he was going to combust, just because of the way he was looking at her: all lust and desire.

He was still shirtless—_damn it, Kyouko, stop noticing stupid shit!_

She narrowed her eyes. "So. You gonna stand there and stare at me, or are you gonna get dressed so we can get going?"

"… Go wash the dishes."

She cocked her head. "Huh?"

"Go wash the dishes," he repeated, narrowing his eyes. He'd already pulled out a white shirt—it was long-sleeved, just like the others—and had slipped it on over himself, covering his chest from Kyouko's sight. She almost whimpered, and she would've had it not been for the cold, azure eyes on her.

With a snort, she crossed her arms, and shook her head: "I told you, didn't I? We're doing them together."

"I thought I made myself clear, herbivore. _Go wash the dishes._" His tonfa sparkled inches away from her throat, her amber eyes widening. Despite the fear in her eyes, she stood firm, not giving away a centimeter of ground.

She was sure he was going to hit her—his hand was holding onto the tonfa with a purpose—but when he didn't move, she flicked her left hand, wanting to summon her Impulse Spear, but deciding better of it. She still hadn't recovered from the fall she'd taken, and if the pain in her body the night before had been any indication, she couldn't use magic until she cleaned her Soul Gem with a Grief Seed. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, if Mukuro happened to attack again during the day before she went home and restored her powers, she'd have no choice but to leave it to Kyouya. So, despite herself, she closed her eyes, and spun around on one foot, heading to the kitchen.

She felt his gaze on her when she turned to face him from the doorway. "I'll make breakfast while I'm at it, 'kay?"

His eyes grew somber, _quiet_. "Hn."

—

Miki Sayaka had never enjoyed Akemi Homura's presence—it was too dreary, too depressing. Sayaka was a happy-go-lucky kind of person, better suited to be in the company of someone like Tomoe Mami or better yet, Sakura Kyouko, not the stingy, black-haired crank that tended to put the damper on everyone else's mood whenever she got a pole up her butt. Sayaka wasn't going to lie: Homura could be a nice person when she wanted to be, and that was perfectly fine by Sayaka. But just because they happened to be on patrol together for the second day in a row since Kyouko had up and exempted herself from patrol duties didn't give Homura the right to act cranky when Sayaka knew full damn well that the purple Magical Girl had gotten a good night's sleep.

Oh, how God was aiming to irritate her.

On top of the fact that Sayaka couldn't stay still, Homura happened to have her purple eyes glued face forward, as if something was going to jump out of the bushes and attack them while they were materialized. Sayaka tensed her grip on her cutlass, just in case—soft taps hit the ground around them as Homura's portable armory was put into action, following Sayaka's lead even though Homura was technically in charge of strategy when it came to battles. Sayaka thought like Kyouko: strategy was for pansies. Then again, who was Sayaka to talk?

Homura tensed up, her hands splayed beside herself, her black hooded cape blowing through the air around her. Sayaka caught the dark expression on her face and reached out with her senses, her blue Soul Gem beginning to sparkle from her naval. Something was brushing her mind, something elusive, but similar in nature to her own magic: tranquil, rippling, bubbling. It felt like water to Sayaka, something so close to her own magic that the patterns could've been an exact copy, a duplicate of her own energies. Homura's purple Soul Gem began to glow as well, her sand-timer beginning to hum with magical power.

She could hear them approaching—

_Miki Sayaka, you charge first, I'll support you from here if you need me—_

—she gritted her teeth and jumped out, pulling her cutlass back and howling a battle cry.

The figure—white-capped and by the looks of it four-eyed as well—reflexively turned to Sayaka, and drew out his own weapons, flinging one into her path. Sayaka didn't hesitate to flick it away with her cutlass, her blade slicing through the protective blue flames cloaking the projectile. But he didn't only have _one_—another flashed outward, taking Sayaka by surprise, and just as she sliced her sword up into his breathing space, the projectile slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. As she rolled back across the cement, she channeled her magic of healing into her wounded chest, rings of music circles popping into view along her body.

The man's eyes widened behind his shadowed glasses, and Sayaka smirked as the soles of her shoes slid back across the pavement, her free hand grazing the ground to balance herself. She knew she wasn't skilled enough to corner this man—even though her weapon was built for close-quarters combat, unlike Kyouko's or Madoka's—and even though she had Homura behind her to help, Sayaka knew she was pretty much on her own in this battle. She knew Homura was probably analyzing who Sayaka was dealing with, and searching for a weakness, something Sayaka could use against them.

Just like when they went on Witch Hunts together.

Swaying back onto her heels, Sayaka surged forward in a burst of sapphire blue light, and flung her sword forward, engaging him at point blank range. His movements responded to hers almost instantly, deflecting her sword attacks without hesitation nor a single stutter. Their attacks were fluid, flowing into one another, melding and colliding together in such a way that Sayaka was certain she'd fought him before. The way his body moved was familiar, twisting to keep away from the sharp edge of her cutlass, as well as from the bright blue glow of her magic. She wasn't sure why her magic brought such fear into his darkened eyes—she assumed it was because despite the amount of damage he was causing her, her circles continued to spin, pulling her skin back together, healing her.

It wasn't something any normal human would do, she had to admit that. But to be so afraid that his eyes were _red_?

Sayaka's eyes widened, _this is—_

_Sayaka, dodge!_

Almost too late, she threw her body toward the ground, ducking underneath his spiked left hook. Her blue eyes parted open as her ripped white hood rippled in the breeze, falling from her head, revealing a small red slice to the sky. His eyes met hers as she tensed both hands around the hilt of her cutlass, charging an immense amount of magic into the blade, preparing for one final thrust. His irises flew open wider as azure magic blew from the length of the blade, her voice rising into a reverberating battle cry. Sayaka's cutlass surged forward, penetrating his shirt, but halting just short of puncturing his flesh too deeply—she released her magic before she could severely injure him, the knockback of her unfocused power sending him flying into the cement, a small, but decent amount of blood spraying into the air.

She sliced her sword back across the air and narrowed her sea-colored eyes, waiting for the boy to get back up, to continue their fight. Her magic circles popped into existence once more, healing the cut on the side of her face, the scratches on her legs, the tears in her armor. The wind ruffled her cape at her back, her thick, short blue locks rolling upon themselves in the wind as she stepped closer, tensing her grip on the hilt of her blade. The man swayed to his feet, and raised his weapons to protect himself, but Sayaka didn't stop. She continued, a smile curving her lips, a smirk brightening her eyes. Her music circles disappeared, leaving her fully healed, and once she reached his breathing space, she stopped.

_Any chance of this being who I think it is, Homura? _

The man backed away, lighting flames along his projectiles and flinging them both at her. Sayaka twisted the hand guard of her cutlass around her fingers, blocking both and cutting through the flames with little resistance. When she caught the blade in her palm, and tensed it, the man's face twisted into the most fearful look she'd ever seen. She wondered if this was what the look on her face had looked like when she'd first fought Kyouko, when she'd first faced that fearsome spear of hers. She knew she'd grown up since then—she was able to strike fear into her enemies now, just like her stronger, tougher, and fiercer best friend. She was sure the spearess would be proud of her if she was here.

_Kakimoto Chikusa. One of Kyouko's childhood enemies. _

There was a heavy pause.

Then:

_Show him no mercy. _

Sayaka raised her cutlass to be level with her shoulder, and smoothed her gloved fingers down the length of the bloodied blade. Her lips were tilted into a haughty line, _roger that! _

Before she could get any closer, he jerked upward on the string holding his projectile to his hand, and though Sayaka's eyes caught the spiked, flame-covered weapon, her body couldn't move in time—she took the attack at the base of her chin, and flew up into the air, magic glittering into the air around her. Not deterred by the blood splattering the earth beneath her, Sayaka flipped backwards, pushing her feet into a luminous ring of music circles that spun outwards from her soles, catching her. He raised his face, fear crossing his eyes once more, as Sayaka pushed off, flinging her left hand forward to line up her target, and finally bringing her cutlass downward—aiming for the top of his head.

Rubble exploded from her evaded sword, dirt rising into her face, her widened eyes. Lifting her face to his, she froze, watching him throw one of his weapons toward her, his irises narrowed. She knew as well as he did that a weak attack like that was easily evadable—was he baiting her? Sayaka narrowed her eyes, and surged forward regardless, charging magic into her cutlass as he brightened the flames on his remaining projectile, pulling the previous one back and charging that one as well. Sayaka spun around to avoid his next attack, and the moment she was facing forward, she pushed her now blazing weapon into his midsection, hardly caring if she pierced the skin, drew blood, any of it. But nothing flew into the air. Her knockback was deflected as well.

He was holding her there—Sayaka looked closer, her irises widening at the sight in front of her.

"A shield of flame?" she questioned, magic streaming from her blade, shockwaves rippling through the air as her magic and his fire collided just shy of his stomach. She tensed her arms, and pushed harder, gaining a centimeter. "What the—"

"Deathperation flames," he answered, speaking for the first time since she'd ambushed him. His irises flicked to hers, and a small smile crept across his face. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Miki Sayaka?"

She found it within herself to smile back. "Cut the crap. I don't have time for that."

"Sakura Kyouko's rubbed off on you, I see," he noted. Sayaka pushed harder against his shield, gaining another two inches. His spiked defense poked into his stomach, his flames ruffling the now torn edges of his shirt. He glanced down at her as she shifted to allow herself more leverage, and drew her arms back ever so slightly. "Withdrawing?"

"Nope," she replied, shoving as much magic and strength as she could into her arms and sword, piercing through his defense, and piercing into the skin of abdomen—magic and deflected flames streamed into the air around her, blinding her sight, clouding the space around both her and Chikusa. This time, her knockback was successful, and Chikusa flew back toward the way he came, crashing into the pavement with his legs and arms splayed out beside him, bleeding from the wound in his abdomen. She flicked the blood off her blade with a sharp slice, and released her magic, taking a human step toward him. "Next time you come into Namimori, I won't go easy on you."

Chikusa raised his face to her darkened eyes.

"I promise you, I won't show you any mercy," Sayaka added, her tone forceful, filled to the brim with shadows and anger. "And neither will Kyouko."

Homura stepped out from the bushes, her Magical Girl armor fading into swaths of violet light, her firearms vanishing as well. Faced with two powerful Magical Girls, Chikusa wobbled to his feet, putting his weapons away and facing Sayaka with a stiff upper lip and a certain dignity that fiercely reminded her of Rokudo Mukuro. It took everything in Sayaka's willpower to stop herself from materializing a second time and beating the living shit out of him. But the speed of which his blood was spilling out onto the earth was suffice enough for a second warning, in her mind at least.

Homura and Sayaka stood quietly as Chikusa walked away, holding his side with his fingers. Once he reached shadows, and darkness, he disappeared from Sayaka's sight—his presence was completely gone from her reach as well, something that didn't go unnoticed by Sayaka. She summoned her Soul Gem with a swirl of her hand, holding the now deep sapphire oval in her palm, and frowning at the corruption corroding at the edges from the center of her soul. Homura's footsteps echoed beside her as she tilted Sayaka's palm toward her, her violet eyes grim.

"We can't afford to fight any more than we have to," Homura said. Sayaka's Soul Gem flowed back into ring form, resting on her finger quietly as the girl turned to Homura and nodded. "And, now we know that Mukuro is coming after Kyouko, as well."

"Or Madoka," Sayaka replied, earning a dark glare from the raven-haired Magical Girl. "What? I'm just telling you the truth. He's been after Madoka since the get-go. Don't you remember what he said to Kyouko when she lost her enchantment magic?"

Homura's gaze remained shadowed, but Sayaka remembered perfectly clear.

"I'll strip you of that _hope_ you find so precious," Sayaka repeated, her tone solemn, quiet, "and teach you the _true_ meaning of despair, Magical Girl."

—

**shift.**

—

**notes**: So, so, so, _so_ sorry for the wait, guys—I lost a lot of my inspiration for this around a month ago, and school kept piling up, along with life's bullcrap, and a bunch of other things that don't matter. Anyway, I'll be updating this a bit more consistently—_hopefully_—so, you guys won't have to wait that long again. Cross your fingers and leave a review?


	14. of thank yous and whispered voices

—

**fourteen. **

—

Normally speaking, Hibari Kyouya _refused_ to be subordinate to anyone.

He held firm to this rule every waking moment of his life, and never complained about the hardships it had put him through. But this was something completely different—this was Sakura Kyouko, the only one he'd ever allow an attempt to dominate him on a battlefield of their choice. He'd allowed her something unusual before: he'd allowed her to coax him into dancing with her, straddle him against the floor without resistance, take his fight with Rokudo Mukuro into her hands, kiss him, eat his food, use his shower, _sleep in his bed with him_. She was a haughty, but beautiful creature, as irritating as she was interesting, and despite the fact that he'd been lenient with his rules for much too long, he didn't want to stop her.

Something about her presence just shoved all of the fight out of him. Something about her—hell, if he wanted to be honest, it'd be _everything_ about her at this point—had his attention and wouldn't release him. He wasn't sure if it was just because she was persistent, or if that spell she'd casted on him _still _hadn't worn off after at least a week. But one thing was for certain: she was changing something in him, little by little, and though he was trying—no, _struggling_—to fight it, she was making him softer and warmer, but only to her. At this point, he wouldn't doubt it if he was falling for her, even though the thought was absolutely disgusting in itself. He didn't need love—wrong. He didn't know _how_ to love.

But Kyouko… she made it _so_ easy to imagine it. What it would be like, how it would feel—Kyouya's stomach rolled at the thought. Sometimes, Kyouya had to wonder what he'd ever done to deserve this treatment. He'd already acknowledged the fact that he was half-demon, even though that was complete nonsense, and that he was good-looking (just when exactly _was_ he going to need these looks anyway?). He honestly had to wonder why he kept getting into the situations he kept getting into.

It _frustrated_ the hell out of him, to be frank.

It didn't help that she was holding his wrist, and her temple was lying against his right shoulder. Not only was she too close, but she was _touching_ and _holding_ him. And though he couldn't deny that he rather enjoyed the feel of her skin, he was irritated that she'd be stupid enough to do it in public. He had an image, and he'd prefer to keep said image in place. But he didn't shake her off. Something in him wouldn't allow him to shake her off. It was those herbivorous feelings again, those vexing emotions he wished were dead, were still sleeping. He couldn't stand them. He couldn't stand them, and that was more than likely the reason why they wouldn't go away.

Because karma had a weird way of dealing with him.

Kyouko sighed against his shoulder, her eyelashes gathering at the edges of her eyes as she opened them. "We can skip the arcade, if it'll make you less antsy."

He closed his eyes, and tensed his arm in her hold. He didn't pull away from her, but he didn't lean into her either. He still had some fight left in him, after all. But her proposition surprised him—she _loved_ that arcade, as far as he could tell. For her to give up the chance to go to that game-playing establishment just to make him feel better was something that confused and relieved him, in some way. It wasn't that he didn't want to go with her, because that'd be a lie. He enjoyed watching her dance, even if just a little bit. But he wasn't sure why she was sacrificing one of her hobbies just for him.

Her head rose from his shoulder, but kept close. "Hey, Hibari."

"Hn?" he asked, turning one eye to her twin auburn ones. She tightened her ever-so-faint grip on his wrist, and wove their fingers together, her skin trailing static against his. Kyouko turned her head toward him, and stopped walking, her bangs sliding into her eyes as she lowered her head.

"Can I… Can I ask you something?" He didn't slide backwards when she touched her forehead to his. "Why did you let me stay with you?"

Of course she'd ask an uncomfortable question.

That was Sakura Kyouko for him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Your body would've cluttered the sidewalk."

He was sure he'd already answered a similar question with the exact same sentence. But the small flicker of hurt in her eyes told him otherwise. She wanted something in particular, something he was sure would be the death of him. Something he didn't have the capacity to say, or whisper, or murmur. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he knew she was starving for it. That was evident in the earnest eagerness carved into the pores of her face. But at the same time, the planes of her cheeks were sloping downward in disappointment.

He didn't understand her, or women in general.

Her head dropped to his shoulder again, and she started walking. "Are you _really_ that obtuse?"

He was _obtuse_? "Herbivore—"

"Don't _herbivore_ me," she said, her voice—though quiet—taking on an angry, bitter tone. "My name is _Sakura Kyouko_. Not an animal that eats grass."

"You called me obtuse," he responded, as if that justified his reference to animals eating plants. Her amber eyes were subdued, but smoldering at his collarbone.

He supposed she had a point. She wasn't exactly an herbivore anymore, considering her strength and combat ability. But what should he call her? Her name was something impossible to him, something that tasted so good on his tongue. He didn't want to part with it. Those rare moments when he spoke it always enticed the same reaction out of her, and even though that reaction sizzled and sparked something inside him he'd much rather be rid of, those reactions were something only he could bring out of her. Something only _he_ could create. Her moments of vulnerability and softness in comparison to her normal, fiery ones were something… _precious_ to him.

But what exactly did she mean by obtuse?

"I called you obtuse because you are," she replied, tightening her fingers in his briefly, just reminding him that they were there, and they were holding his. Restraining him, he supposed. The penthouse loomed over them, and Kyouko sighed. "But it's okay. I'm obtuse too."

"You're irritating," he started, choosing his next words carefully, "and irrational."

"You know, you can be kinda mean when you wanna be, Hibari," she answered, shooting him a small, slight glare. Her hand didn't leave his, and neither did her temple. He felt her lip curve up through the sleeve of his white shirt as he turned to her. "Anyways, thanks for keeping me."

Her touch vanished from his shoulder, and his hand in the next moment.

"I'll see you in school, 'kay?" she asked, running her fingers through her long, scarlet ponytail as she glanced back at him.

He didn't move from where he was for a moment, and neither did she. There was something on the air, something that felt like desire and anticipation, something that he couldn't quite name. Something she apparently felt too. Her boots pitter-pattered across the cobblestone as she crossed the distance between them, stopping just in front of him. Her face was twisted, but soft, and when she poked her face into his breathing space, he didn't move to push her away. He didn't know why he wasn't pushing her away. He didn't understand it, at all.

"Can I ask you somethin' else?" He nodded soundlessly. She flicked her eyes from side to side, before adding, "If I wanted to… uh, _thank you_, would you let me?"

At first he wasn't sure what she meant by thank him, but when her eyes fell to his lips, he understood. "… I suppose."

Her right hand reached up to take the side of his face, her brown eyes glistening in the late morning light, her lips moist and full centimeters from his. He could practically taste her already, but he didn't make a move. She wasn't doing anything else but thanking him. At that thought, a soft flush of heat burst forth across his face, surprising both of the teenagers. Her hand slid to his shoulder as she blinked at the coloring on the sides of his face, watching his blue eyes flicker with shock and confusion. Then, her mouth curved upward, and met his deeply.

Her knees grazed his as she pushed herself up onto her tip toes to press her lips against his harder—Kyouya, still too shocked and stunned to move or resist her, didn't register the hand cupping his cheek, or the feel of her breasts touching his chest, or the locks of scarlet hair flowing over her shoulders in the autumn breeze, one with the amber leaves falling from the trees. He did reach for the hem of her shirt with his free hand—it had only just occurred to him that she was holding one of his hands still—and cling to it, holding her where she was. He knew she had no intention of releasing him or being released by him, but it was just like him to keep a solid margin in case something didn't go as planned.

When she parted from him, her breath was on his lips, and her forehead was touching his. "Well, I lied."

"Hn?" She smirked, and shook her head.

"Kisses don't mean _thank you_. They can mean all kinds of things. But for you and me, they'll mean _thank you_ until I say otherwise, 'kay?" she asked, cocking her head. She didn't release his hand—it was his ring hand she was holding, he realized with a start—only clenched it tighter. "Oh, and if you need help patrolling the town, just give me a call. You already know about me, so it won't hurt."

His fingers fell from the hem of her shirt as she pulled back. Her fingers lingered against the side of his face. "I won't require your assistance, herbivore."

Her eyes narrowed at his comment, but her expression stayed relatively light, and playful. "Just keep it mind, alright? I won't hold it against you. We _both_ got our asses kicked."

But in the end, it was Sakura Kyouko that had sent Rokudo Mukuro packing, _not_ him. "You have some interesting ideals, Sakura Kyouko."

She grinned. "Yeah, I get that a lot. But, at least I'm not boring. Like Sayaka."

That reminded him.

"Tell Miki Sayaka I'll bite her to death the next time I see her," he said, subconsciously reaching for his tonfas. Kyouko noticed, but didn't say anything. She just smirked, and nodded once, turning back for the penthouse with one hand in her pocket and the other waving back at him, her thick scarlet locks flowing through the air behind her.

"Sure thing! I'll also tell her how much you enjoyed that little lullaby she sang to you!"

"_Herbivore_." Kyouko shut her left eye playfully as she walked through the twin glass doors.

"Later, Hibari!" she called, each plane of her face beaming brighter than before.

He watched her until she disappeared, a lone, black shadow amongst the feverish ones against the cobblestone.

Then he turned, starting back the way he came.

—

Madoka was waiting for Kyouko when she walked through the door, still holding that kiss inside her.

The pink-haired girl didn't hesitate to bombard her with questions: how was it, did she enjoy herself, did he taste good, was he gentle or soft. Kyouko couldn't help but widen her eyes and take the sides of the girl's face in her fingers and pry the pink Magical Girl's cheeks from her bones to make sure it was _Kaname Madoka_ she was talking to. Kyouko knew it was natural to be curious—she supposed that was partially the reason she'd kissed Hibari Kyouya twice, not even within twelve hours of each other—but for a girl to say something so casually was another thing entirely.

It wasn't like Kyouko and Kyouya had had… _sex_ or anything. They'd just slept in the same bed, washed themselves in the same bathroom, ate in the same dining room, etcetera. She wasn't sure if she wanted to have that kind of image, at least in Madoka's mind. She knew how furious Homura would be when she caught wind of Madoka's curiosity.

Still, Kyouko knew it was inevitable.

"We didn't do anything, Madoka," she said, taking the cup of tea the girl handed to her. "He just kept me for the night. That's all."

"Homura-chan said something about you fighting again. Did you push yourself too hard?" Madoka asked, taking a step back when Kyouko passed her to walk to the living room couch, her second backside. Madoka followed her, keeping close to the red-haired girl. "I have the Grief Seed I'm supposed to give you."

That reminded Kyouko—she swept her left palm out, summoning her Soul Gem, holding it in her hand. "That's weird. It's not brackish."

That was an understatement: there was no black in it _at all_.

Kyouko fell off the couch. "What the hell?! There's nothing! No corruption, no despair, or whatever the hell you wanna call it! It's completely clean!"

"What?" Madoka raced over to the redhead's side, kneeling down beside the shocked, and confused Magical Girl.

Kyouko allowed Madoka to take her Soul Gem into her hands, and examine every inch of its surface with her porcelain rose-colored eyes, making certain that her grip on it was as light and gentle as she could make it without dropping the oval. Once Madoka had finished inspecting the gem, she handed it back to Kyouko, who promptly raised it to her own eyes, and lacerated the crimson luster shining from it. It was strange… she felt so much stronger, and more powerful, and… more _herself_.

She touched her fingertips to her lips, wincing as the wetness of her lip-gloss gathered about the surface of her fingers. "This doesn't make any sense. I didn't have any Grief Seeds with me—I was _unconscious_, for crying out loud!"

"Maybe you recovered more magic while you were unconscious?" Madoka suggested, though the subtle tremor in her eyes let Kyouko know that Madoka was just as confused as she was. This was unheard of. This was _game-changing_. Madoka flicked her glance to Kyouko's face. "Do you have a crush on Hibari-san?"

"_Huh?!_" Kyouko exclaimed, widening her eyes, blushing, the whole business. She scrambled back a few paces from the strawberry-haired girl. Madoka summoned her own Soul Gem, held it close to Kyouko's. "What're you doing?"

"Yours is cleaner than mine," she pointed out, her eyes widening. "It's purer, and I haven't used my magic at all since the Witches disappeared."

Kyouko was _this_ close to freaking the freak out.

This was that legit scary.

And it didn't help that Madoka was suggesting crazy things like her having a small—like legit tiny—crush on the stubborn dumbass. Just the thought of him was enough to send Kyouko's nerves in a blushing frenzy: her arms erupted in chills; her lips started tingling underneath the not-so-thick layer of lip gloss, her hands flew up to her face and hid her eyes as she swayed from side to side, embarrassed and confused. She wasn't sure why she was behaving like this. She'd never acted like this when she'd been with Mukuro—by with, she doesn't mean in a relationship, just in his presence—but with this one, she couldn't help but blush and hide her face, and act like an idealistic little girl. And though Kyouko was embarrassed, and scared, and so hopelessly crashing and craving this guy, she knew it was the truth.

She had a crush on him alright. There was no denying it anymore.

"You do, don't you?" Madoka asked, putting her hands on her face and leaning toward Kyouko with a soft smile on her face. Her messy strawberry-hued hair fell about her shoulders as she leaned toward the red-haired girl. "It's okay, Kyouko-chan. I won't tell anyone."

"But it's so embarrassing!" Kyouko screeched, hiding her face again. Her Soul Gem vanished back into a silver band upon her finger once more. "It's all I can do just to stand in front of him without blushing. I've hugged him, slept in his bed with him—he's seen me naked at least twice, I've kissed him, I've—"

"—He's _what_?!"

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Kyouko and Madoka both turned to the door, regarding the blushing, shaking form of a certain blonde-haired gunner. It was as if Kyouko's worst nightmare was coming true. Mami had heard her talking about Hibari Kyouya and all the little things they'd done together over their night together, and if Kyouko's eyes were as good as she'd like to think, Mami was exceedingly close to materializing if the amount of magic boiling through the air was any indication. She was sure Mami was going to explode, or combust if she didn't start breathing. Madoka rose from the floor, and scrambled to Mami's side, putting her hands on her shoulders, attempting to calm her down.

Mami merely reached into her bag, and pulled out a book. "_Sakura Kyouko-san._"

"Yeah?" Kyouko squeaked, peeking out from behind her hands, uncertain of whether or not the young woman was going to beat her with it, or sit down calmly and quietly to start reading it. Mami's sunshine yellow eyes popped open a moment later, a clearly fake smile pasting itself to her face.

She should've known better than to drop her guard—when Mami was angry, she was _angry_.

Kyouko ducked her head as the blonde flung the book at her face, and though it arced wide and landed far, far, far from the cherry-haired girl, Kyouko couldn't help but jerk her head up and stare wide-eyed at the panting blonde standing in the doorway with her smile still flinging at least thousands of watts into the tension-filled room. That was the first time Mami had ever thrown anything at her outside of training. And though it was a book—harmless and barely thicker than a magazine—she was still shocked that Mami had gotten angry enough to _throw_ something at her, even if it was something completely safe. It was very out of character for her, the motherly figure for all of them to lose her temper like that and still come out smiling.

If she wanted to be honest with herself, Kyouko was _terrified_.

Mami seemed to notice Kyouko's fear, and crossed the room, kneeling down in front of her. She reached a hand up to take Kyouko's chin, and examine her face, twisting it from side to side to check for marks and abrasions. "I'm sorry, Sakura-san, I didn't mean to, I just—"

"S'okay," Kyouko muttered, pushing the blonde's hand away, her voice soft, "and you're right. I was the idiot out of the two of us. I let myself get too close to him, and got attached."

Mami looked visibly shaken, and somewhat vulnerable. She bit her bottom lip. "Oh, Sakura-san."

"I'm fine, Mami, trust me," she said, offering the older Magical Girl a smirk of her own, "let's make lunch, 'kay? I'm starving."

Mami blinked a few times, before sighing, her hand on her face. "But Sakura-san, it's only ten in the morning."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm hungry as hell," Kyouko shot back, making her way to the kitchen. As she rummaged through the cabinets, she asked, "Oh, yeah, and what book did you throw at me? It looked interesting, what was it?"

Mami stiffened behind Kyouko.

"It was… about parenting."

"Parenting?" Kyouko asked, turning around. "Why would you need something like that? You're not our mother."

"I know, Sakura-san, but sometimes I just feel like I should try to act as something like one," Mami said, leaning back against the countertop as Madoka and Kyouko busied themselves with making lunch, and tea, and Sayaka's favorite cookies. "The book told me to set ground rules, and have you adhere to them. I thought that I was protecting you."

"You were," Kyouko replied, glancing down at her left hand, "but—"

"—In my experience, I've never seen a Magical Girl as strong and independent as you, Sakura-san," Mami continued, closing her eyes. Kyouko widened her auburn irises, and regarded Mami with a soft, gentle expression. "And I just… I just don't want to see you get hurt like that again. But Akemi-san told me to trust him, and to trust your judgment."

Kyouko's heart rose to beat once—only _once_.

"I don't know Hibari-san very well, but I do trust you, Sakura-san. If there's something you need from him that you can't get from us, then, who would I be to stop you?" Mami finished, opening her eyes again. And when she looked at Kyouko, there was such a look of love and affection that the red-haired girl had to touch her back to the counter to keep herself upright. Mami fixed Kyouko with a stern expression. "I won't keep you away from him, Sakura-san, but if he starts behaving like Rokudo Mukuro, I won't hesitate to stop him."

Kyouko's knees hit the floor, and all of the breath she'd been holding back escaped her mouth all in a rush.

"You don't have to worry about that, Mami-san," Madoka put in, putting a hand under Kyouko's arm and lifting her to her feet. "He's just as passionate as Kyouko-chan is. They're perfect for each other!"

Kyouko's face promptly flushed bright, beaming red.

"_Haaaahhhh?!_"

—

Of course, after she'd kissed him, in the middle of the busy sidewalk, he'd jumped right back into the frying pan. In all honesty, Kyouya would prefer to say that the frying pan had leaped right after him—his skin still tingled wherever she'd touched him, his heart was still racing, his patience was wearing thin, as always whenever his body _refused_ to cooperate and settle down. His hands were tense in his pockets, his posture erect and rigid as he walked down the pathway, heading toward the school. He wasn't paying attention when the car pulled up alongside him—he _never_ paid attention when that hideous car pulled up alongside him.

This time was no different—aside from the fact that something was snaking out into the air and seizing him by the wrist.

"Wait." The word popped out from the inside of the car as he raised his left foot to kick at the window and fight his assailant off. Of course, that voice only put him into an even darker mood. "Kyouya, relax, it's just me."

"Don't speak to me, herbivore," he ordered, wrenching his wrist away from the whip's hold. Much to his irritation, the leather rope was rather stubborn, and held onto him tightly. It was either the weapon itself keeping him in his place, or the subtle, but steadfast glow of orange pulsing from it. He hissed from between his teeth, "_Release me_."

"I never expected you to kiss a girl, Kyouya."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you, with that red-haired girl. I've gotta say, she's a pretty one," Dino said, leaning out from the door and putting a hand on Kyouya's shoulder. The younger teenager would've shaken him off had it not been for the whip twining itself around his entire body, trapping him where he was. The car door opened, and though he pulled against the bronco's weapon's grip, the Sky flames infused into the leather made quick work of his resistance. "Very spirited too. I wonder, do you like her, Kyouya?"

Slamming into the car seat beside the bronco, Kyouya snarled, "Do not speak to me."

"You'll never change, will you, Kyouya?" Dino asked, sighing, and nodding to Romario. "Oh, and Romario? Tell Tsuna that we've got him, okay?"

His features took up his characteristic scowl.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was going to pay. Dearly.

"But, that girl… You do realize that you won't be able to keep her, don't you?" Dino asked, addressing Kyouya directly with a stern, but pleasant expression.

Kyouya didn't care about keeping Sakura Kyouko. He didn't need her. He didn't want her, as a matter of fact—his heart throbbed as if in disagreement. Hell, his whole body throbbed in disagreement. He couldn't help but feel angry—was this another one of her spells? Another one of her magic tricks? Did that ring on her finger have another power besides stunning her target? And what was that symbol, that crimson ellipse? He'd allowed her to distract him with her _thank yous_ and pretty words. He'd lost sight of what he was supposed to be doing, and got himself beaten by his worst enemy, as well as been made into a mockery by his want-to-be mentor.

He was so stupid. So, so stupid.

"I don't care," he replied, snorting his words and biting back that irritating leap in his chest. "I don't need her."

Dino's eyes widened. "Then—"

"—Don't ask questions," Kyouya said, managing to pull his tonfa from his pocket and unfold it. He held the sharp edge of one of his flails up to the whip, and started cutting. "I said I don't need her."

"Stubborn as always," Dino answered, sighing and shaking his head. "Sometimes, Kyouya, it's okay to let others in, to let someone else be with you. It doesn't make you weak, or vulnerable."

"Having ties makes one weak," he snorted, slicing his tonfa up his side, freeing himself from his tutor's whip. "She is no different."

"Will you at least tell me her name?" Dino asked, his brown eyes gentle. Kyouya blinked, and turned away, averting his eyes.

Red hair flashed across his mind, along with autumn leaf-hued irises, a beaming, toothy grin—his lips tingled as he recalled the feel of her mouth against his. Dino seemed to notice his discomfort and smiled to himself, leading Kyouya to narrow his eyes and turn back toward the window. Just remembering her was bad enough. She was too much trouble for him, too fiery, too spirited for him to handle one hundred percent of the time. She was irritable when she was angry. She was temperamental and disobeyed direct orders. She was haughty by nature and beautiful in appearance, and carnivorous in battle. She was something he might never understand, yes, but somehow, she meant _something_ to him.

A soft, faint breath of a smile graced his face as he whispered, "Sakura Kyouko."

.

And in the distance, from behind glass windows, and wooden doors, the red-haired girl turned at the sound of his voice. "Hibari?"

She never noticed the bright, scarlet glow beaming into the air from her left hand.

—

**shift. **

—

**notes**: I wonder, have the chapters been decreasing in quality? Am I doing something wrong with the characters? No one's telling me anything.


End file.
